Category: English

After being released from prison, I immediately spotted the black luxury car parked at the entrance. In the snow, Yves Whitman and our son Noah Whitman stood in front of the car. Yves coldly said, “Aria, do you understand what you did wrong? You need to turn over a new leaf. Let’s go home.” Meanwhile, the son I had risked my life to give birth to blocked my way and said, “Go apologize to Sarah, or I’ll never acknowledge you as my mother again!” Looking at the two similar faces before me, I felt my heart ache. This time, I truly gave up. I wanted neither of them. I didn’t expect Yves would come to pick me up personally when I got out of prison. He stood at the prison gate in the falling snow, holding Noah’s hand, and said, “Aria, I’ve come to get you.” In the past, I would have immediately rushed toward them with joy, embracing them. But now, I looked at them, feeling nothing but calm inside. Yves said coldly, “Aria, do you understand what you did wrong? You need to turn over a new leaf. Let’s go home.” But Noah stubbornly blocked the car and said, “We’re not going home! Mom needs to apologize to Sarah first! Otherwise, I’ll never acknowledge you as my mother again!” Wearing only thin clothes, I stood shivering in the snow, frowning at Noah, but said nothing. I felt dazed and disoriented, finding it hard to believe this was the son I had risked my life to give birth to. Yves pulled Noah aside and gestured for me to get in the car. “Let’s go. Noah is right. We’ll go to the Starlight Hotel first. Sarah has prepared a celebration party for you there. When you see Sarah, you can apologize to her in person.” I looked at him in disbelief and said disappointedly, “I don’t want to go. I just want to go home now.” Yves insisted on pulling me into the car, gently persuading me: “Aria, you’re an adult now. You need to take responsibility for your actions and set a good example for Noah. When you make mistakes, you must face the consequences. Being stubborn will only hurt you.” I stared at his serious face and said, “I want to go home first, take a shower, and change my clothes.” But Noah shouted for the driver to go directly to the hotel. “No, that would waste too much time! We can’t keep Sarah waiting. I promised Sarah we’d come straight to her after picking you up.” Yves nodded in agreement. “You and Sarah know each other well, don’t worry, she won’t blame you. Let’s go directly to the hotel. You just need to sincerely apologize to her later.” My face darkened, and I said nothing more. Despite the heater in the car, I still felt cold to my core. After a moment of silence, I said coldly, “I will not apologize. I regret not killing her with my own hands to avenge my grandmother.” Yves showed a troubled expression and said, “Aria, you’re too stubborn. Why can’t you compromise for me?” Noah shouted directly, “Bad women don’t deserve to be my mother. I don’t want a murderer as my mom!” Yet, I looked coldly at my closest family members, the absurdity of the situation suddenly hitting me. The irony was overwhelming. I shook my head, laughing through my tears.

The car stopped at the hotel entrance. Yves took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders, holding my hand. In front of others, he always appeared gentlemanly and polite. I withdrew my hand, put on the jacket properly, and walked toward the private room with my head held high. “Aria,” Yves called anxiously from behind. I ignored him and could already hear Sarah Jensen and her friends chatting in the room from a distance. “Aria, that fool, she doesn’t deserve to be married to Yves.” “Yes, if Sarah hadn’t gone abroad back then, Aria would never have had the chance.” “Exactly, you and Yves grew up together, you’re perfect for each other.” “Now Aria even has an attempted murder record, she’s like a dirty rat, disgusting.” At this point, Sarah pretended to be magnanimous and said, “I know you’re all upset on my behalf, but please don’t talk about Aria like that. She has already been punished for her actions.”This seemingly sympathetic statement was actually designed to turn everyone against me. Sure enough, after she spoke, everyone in the room eagerly disparaged me, defending Sarah’s honor. I stood at the doorway with a cold smirk, reaching out to push the door open. But Yves held me back, saying, “Aria, don’t mind what these people say. Just apologize to Sarah, and this will be over. In the future…”I yanked my hand away from him and pushed the door open. Everyone fell silent, staring at me in surprise. I knew I must look terrible. I was wearing a thin, unseasonable shirt covered by an ill-fitting men’s jacket. My hair was disheveled, making me look like a vagrant. Sure enough, after a brief silence, everyone burst into laughter, mocking my appearance and hairstyle. Some were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. Sarah smiled at me, seemingly eager to see me break down in tears from the humiliation. However, they underestimated the cruelty of prison. Someone who has walked out of hell doesn’t care about scenes like this anymore. Expressionless, I walked straight toward Sarah. Sarah maintained her polite smile as she stood up and said, “Aria, congratulations on your release! Don’t blame me for what happened back then. I was unconscious in the hospital, and they kept everything from me. I only found out after I was discharged that Yves personally sent you to prison…” She cast a meaningful glance at Yves behind me and continued, “Yves is very upright and principled. He personally sent you to prison, but please don’t blame him. He must be suffering too. For over a year, he’s been eating vegetarian food to atone for what he did to you…” Before Sarah could finish, I slapped her hard across the face. I could see half her face swelling up. Everyone was stunned.

  Suddenly, Noah charged at me furiously. “Bad woman! Why did you hit Sarah? I hate you. I hate you! I don’t want you to be my mother!” The nine-year-old boy was already quite strong. I staggered from the impact, the wound on my ribs shooting with pain, but I didn’t care. I looked at Sarah coldly and said, “Sarah, thank you for your special attention during the past year and a half. Thank you for having someone break six of my ribs.” Yves, standing behind me, spun around sharply when he heard my words. Ignoring his gaze, I continued staring at Sarah: “You had someone pierce my thighs with steel needles, put drugs in my food, and set my hair on fire while I slept. You had my cotton clothes soaked in urine and forced me to wear them. My skin suffered extensive frostbite, and I went into shock and lost consciousness, nearly dying.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, appearing surprised and innocent: “Aria, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do those things.” Yves clenched his fists, frowning at me as if trying to determine whether I was telling the truth. Sarah covered her face, crying, “Yves, what Aria is describing is horrible. I never did any of those things. Although I’ve never been to prison, we live in a society governed by law. Prisons are strictly managed places.” Everyone echoed her sentiments. “Right, who would believe her? It’s a prison, for goodness’ sake. People can’t just do whatever they want there. The guards would certainly control the inmates.” I sneered, “In this society, money is almost omnipotent.” Then I turned to Yves and asked with a slight smile, “Do you believe what I’m saying?” Yves frowned, saying disappointedly, “Aria, you’re being too much. Why can’t you just repent? You’re making up lies to frame Sarah. Back then, there were witnesses and evidence, even the police confirmed Stephanie accidentally fell into the water, yet you tried to frame Sarah. And now you’re trying to frame her again?” Noah hugged Sarah from behind and cursed at me, “No wonder grandma told me not to be with the bad woman. You’re a lying, vicious woman!” I lifted my pant leg, completely indifferent to everyone’s stares, revealing numerous needle marks on my upper thigh and the scars on my stomach. Sarah had been careful. She was certain I would be too proud to display my scars in public. But now, I showed my body without any hesitation. Yves’s expression finally grew grave. He reached out with trembling hands, wanting to touch me, but I immediately covered my wounds. I looked around at everyone’s varied expressions and sneered, “Would you like to see more?” With that, I shrugged off the suit jacket and slowly began unbuttoning my collar.

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We’ve been married for four years, and my husband Raymond Lambert never updated his social media, but that day he posted on Instagram for the first time: “You’re such a greedy kitty cat.” The picture showed a girl wearing a pink cat ear headband, eating spicy Buffalo wings, her cheeks flushed red as she kept sticking out her tongue. That was Sheila Jones, the new streamer Raymond’s company had just hired. In less than a minute, our mutual friend commented: “Raymond, you forgot to switch accounts!” Immediately, Raymond’s post disappeared like a fleeting moment, but soon reappeared on Sheila’s Twitter homepage. Afterward, Raymond called me. In the past, I would have immediately taken screenshots, then called to question him. We would definitely have argued until we were both exhausted. However, this time I didn’t answer, deliberately waiting for the call to end automatically. ***** When Raymond came home, I had almost fallen asleep on the sofa. He took off his coat and bent down to change his shoes. “Why didn’t you answer my call?” Raymond rarely questioned me unless he felt he had done something wrong. I responded perfunctorily, without even looking up at him, “I happened to be asleep and didn’t hear it.” “I had to work overtime, so I came back late. You don’t need to wait for me every time, it makes you look desperate.” In the past, I would have loudly emphasized to Raymond that it was because I loved him, but now I no longer felt the need to argue with him. Raymond handed me a square velvet box, gesturing for me to open it. That day was when Raymond’s company went public. To celebrate, I had left work early as usual and personally cooked dinner waiting for him to come home. However, even after waiting until midnight, I didn’t see Raymond who had promised to come home early. I pretended not to smell the strong barbecue scent on him, took the box, and casually placed it on the coffee table. Actually, I had seen this box before when Raymond missed my birthday, and the letter pattern on it hadn’t changed much. Raymond stared at the box for a while, slightly frowning, his tone gloomy: “Evelyn, stop being difficult, okay?” Giving me jewelry as a gift was Raymond’s usual way of saving face. As long as I accepted the gift, any unpleasantness between us would be covered up, and no one would mention it again. But now, I didn’t want to play along anymore, so of course he would be angry. “Let me put it on for you.” Not giving me a chance to refuse, Raymond opened the box, took out the bracelet inside, and tried to put it on me, but when he saw I already had an identical bracelet on my wrist, he froze. “Put it back. Go to bed early, you have work tomorrow.” I withdrew my hand, got up from the sofa, and prepared to go back to the bedroom to sleep. “How about I have my assistant accompany you to pick a new one another day?” I responded coldly: “You don’t need to do that.”

Perhaps Raymond felt guilty for buying me two identical gifts, so he suggested I go to the company with him. Since I was pregnant and didn’t want to drive, I didn’t refuse him. The next day, Raymond stood in front of his car, frowning deeply. I didn’t know when Raymond started hating me riding in his car, especially not allowing me to sit in the passenger seat, even forcing me to buy a new car. Maybe it was because I once argued with him like a lunatic to claim his passenger seat, making him feel annoyed. In contrast, to pick up and drop off Sheila, Raymond now deliberately placed many cat-patterned plush toys in the car, stuck cute doodle stickers everywhere, and even redesigned the passenger seat just to make the petite Sheila comfortable. Seeing me waiting on the side, Raymond finally opened the door, bent down and put the plush toys in the back seat. I noticed his reluctance, so I frowned and said: “Forget it, I’ll go to the company myself.” Raymond threw the last cat toy to the back seat: “Let’s go together. Sheila is still a young girl, she just likes these little things. Don’t mind it.”Looking at the pink seat in his car that seemed so out of place, I still felt very repulsed, so I declined his kindness. I turned to open my own car door, but Raymond strode over to block me, and directly sat in my driver’s seat. “I’ll drive. We already agreed to go together.” I stared at Raymond for a long time, just in time to catch a glimpse of discomfort in his eyes.So he did know that decorating the passenger seat like that wasn’t appropriate. Raymond seemed to want to explain, but I urged, “I’m going to be late. Drive.” Finally, he pursed his lips and started the car. While waiting at a red light, his phone rang. I immediately recognized it as Sheila’s special ringtone. A pitiful voice came through Raymond’s phone, accompanied by faint sobbing. “Ray, my stomach hurts. I think I ate something bad yesterday. Take me to the hospital. Ray, please come quickly, I’m begging you.” After hanging up, Raymond didn’t even glance at me or say another word. He simply turned the steering wheel, pulled over to the side of the road, and quickly unbuckled my seatbelt. He said firmly, “My employee isn’t feeling well, I need to check on her. We’re almost at the company, you can walk the rest of the way.” Before I could even close the car door after getting out, Raymond had already driven off and disappeared.

Honestly, no one would walk to work in this situation. When the red light turned green, a man on an electric scooter probably didn’t expect me to be crossing the zebra crossing, and he collided with me head-on as he turned. My hands, feet, and forehead all had varying degrees of abrasions. The nurse treated my wounds, put a bandage on my forehead, and instructed, “Try not to get the wounds wet for the next few days, don’t take baths, and apply medication on time.” After leaving the hospital, I took a taxi to the company. The taxi driver had two phones mounted—one for navigation and the other playing Sheila’s livestream. The real-time comments were all about concern for Sheila. Sheila said, “Thank you all for your concern. I’m fine. Fortunately, Ray arrived in time, so I didn’t need to go to the hospital.” “No, I haven’t told Ray how I feel about him yet. Stop it! Ray is right here watching me. Yes, Ray is very gentle.” I looked down at my phone and saw two angry, impatient messages on WhatsApp. Raymond: [My assistant told me you didn’t attend today’s project planning meeting. Where are you? Get to the office now.] Raymond: [You’re just walking a short distance by yourself. What could possibly be so difficult about that?] Raymond was always such a hypocrite. That evening, after applying medicine to my wounds, I sat on the sofa watching TV. Just then, I heard the sound of the digital lock being opened behind me, followed by Raymond’s mocking voice, “I thought you had improved, not throwing tantrums for days, but I never expected you’d do this.” Perhaps the TV was too loud; Raymond quickly strode over and yanked the plug out. “Evelyn, have you lost your mind? We’ve been preparing for this project meeting for half a month. Do you know how much money the company will lose because of the delay?” I looked up at his angry face, and he froze. Seeing the bandage on my forehead and the visible wounds, he frowned, “You’re hurt?” I turned away and said casually, “It’s nothing. I was just hit by an electric scooter on my way to work.” Raymond’s eyes darted around guiltily as he approached to examine my wounds. “Why didn’t you call me?” I avoided his hand and smiled indifferently, “This little injury is nothing. I figured your employee was more important.” I thought: “Would calling him have helped? He would have just answered to blame and complain without asking why I called. Did he ever really care what I wanted to say on the phone? I couldn’t get him to come before, how could I possibly now?” Raymond was stung by my words. He stood up and sneered, “Evelyn, do you have to put it that way? It was wrong of me to leave you by the roadside, but what are you, a helpless little girl? You even managed to get hit by an electric scooter while walking.” I stared at him silently, thinking: “See? Even when I’m simply stating my thoughts, he mocks me for being immature.” I decided not to engage with Raymond and got up to return to the bedroom. Noticing my difficulty walking, Raymond sighed and came over to support me. “Tonight I’ll sleep with you, and I’ll take care of you.”Raymond hadn’t gone to bed before midnight for a long time. Sheila was afraid of being criticized by followers in her livestream community to the point of falling into depression, so she needed Raymond by her side constantly. Every night, Raymond would work in his study while watching Sheila’s livestream and other content creators. This had become their nightly routine.And he would occasionally connect with the livestreamer for sweet interactions. I had a fight with Raymond, and no matter what, I couldn’t change his mind. Raymond firmly believed he was just working. In the end, he threatened me with divorce, so I had to compromise. I didn’t refuse his proposal. However, when he tried to embrace me, I said softly, “Raymond, let’s get divorced.”   My divorce proposal had a big impact on Raymond. Raymond left home in anger and didn’t come back for a whole week. This was his usual approach when I made him angry, which showed he didn’t care about what I said at all. In the past, when he gave me the cold shoulder like this, I would only feel mentally and physically tortured and unable to sleep, and I would repeatedly call him to apologize, humbly begging for his forgiveness. However, now I was busy looking for a new job and had no time to worry about him. After all, I couldn’t possibly continue working at Raymond’s company after our divorce. That day, as soon as I got off work, Raymond called me. His reaching out first was his way of offering me an olive branch. If I refused, I would be the unreasonable one. “We met our performance targets for the first half of the year, and there’s a party for the business department tonight. Let’s go together later.” I waited at the company entrance for nearly twenty minutes before Raymond finally arrived with Sheila. “Evelyn, I get carsick, so Ray let me sit in the passenger seat. You don’t mind, do you?” Raymond gripped the steering wheel tightly, nervously watching me, afraid that I would lash out at Sheila if I got angry. Instead, I calmly opened the back door. After all, his passenger seat wasn’t meant for me anyway. Listening to Sheila flirting with Raymond throughout the journey, I just quietly looked out the window. Raymond, however, was unusually gloomy toward Sheila, not saying much, occasionally glancing at me in the rearview mirror. When we arrived at the hotel, Raymond’s good friend Nathan Fillion came out to greet us, looking very polite. “Evelyn, long time no see. Look at me, I’ve been so busy I forgot to send you a message.” Nathan was Raymond’s good friend and knew everything about his situation. If Raymond wanted to bring Sheila, he wouldn’t have asked me to come along, because I would always make things awkward for Raymond. “It’s fine. I’ll be leaving in a bit.” Nathan looked surprised, hesitated for a moment, but said nothing. After the party started, Raymond held his glass, greeted everyone, then sat down beside me with a piece of cake. “Have something to eat. You didn’t have lunch this afternoon, so you’re probably hungry now.” Just as I was about to refuse, Sheila came over with her phone. She was livestreaming. “Ray, there you are! I couldn’t find you.” “Oh, are you talking about Evelyn? She didn’t eat dinner tonight, so Ray brought her a small cake.” “Ray and I are not a couple.” I quickly dodged her camera and got up to leave. Then, I stood on the corridor balcony to get some fresh air. Shortly after, Raymond followed me and said in an anxious tone, “I didn’t expect Sheila to livestream. What she says in her livestream isn’t true; I just play along when I connect with her.” “I’ve already asked her to stop.” I nodded indifferently and turned to go back to the party. The director was on stage talking about the company’s future blueprint. Sheila walked up to me with a glass of champagne, clinked her glass with mine, and gave me a sweet yet seductive smile. “Evelyn, my fans all say Ray and I are a perfect match. Do you think he loves you more or me?” I turned and replied, “You should ask him, but I think he might love you more.” Sheila narrowed her eyes, leaned closer to me, and smiled, “Really? I think so too.” I felt something was wrong and wanted to step back, but I didn’t expect Sheila to have already fallen backward onto the ground. Before I could react, someone forcefully pushed my shoulder. My lower back hit the edge of the table hard, and the drinks on the table spilled everywhere.I suddenly felt an intense pain in my lower abdomen, so severe it made me dizzy and disoriented. I struggled to hold onto the table, clutching my lower abdomen as I felt warm liquid trickling down my thighs. Raymond worriedly helped Sheila to her feet and, disregarding all the onlookers, yelled at me furiously, “Evelyn, when will you ever stop being crazy? You…”Seeing me bleeding, he seemed to remember something. His eyes widened in disbelief as he asked in a trembling voice, “Are you pregnant?” Raymond frantically pulled out his phone, intending to call an ambulance. Sheila grabbed his hand and carefully took a sanitary pad from her purse, offering it to me. “Evelyn, is it your period? You should change this.” Raymond stopped dialing and silently looked at me for a few seconds. Then, embarrassed, he tossed the sanitary pad from Sheila’s hand onto my lap. “Go take care of it quickly. Don’t make a scene here.” With that, he took Sheila’s hand and left. Whenever Sheila was around, we couldn’t even maintain a facade of decency. I struggled to walk outside and, fighting through the pain, took out my phone to call my best friend, Mia Davis. “Mia, can you come pick me up and take me to the hospital?” I closed my eyes, my voice hoarse. “I think I’m having a miscarriage.” As soon as I finished speaking, intense dizziness overwhelmed me. I heard hurried footsteps and anxious voices nearby. My vision went black, and I collapsed into a warm embrace.

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I have a hereditary form of amnesia that skips generations. By the time they diagnosed me, I had only seven days left before everything would slip away. On the first day, my boyfriend confessed he’d fallen for my sister. I forced a smile and broke things off. On the second day, my sister smashed my prized LEGO collection. Everyone laughed, saying I was an embarrassment who didn’t deserve to be a Miller. By the fourth day, I’d forgotten my sister was allergic to mangoes and accidentally sent her to the hospital. My parents couldn’t even look at me, and my ex called me a heartless bitch. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to find my father storming in, demanding I quit my job to become the family’s full-time caretaker. I just stared at them all, confused. “Who are you people?” I asked softly. When they realized I genuinely couldn’t remember anything, the whole family lost their minds. ***** Harris: [Ms. Miller, are you continuing your treatment? Don’t forget to pick up your prescription if you are.] Harris: [Ms. Miller, your condition is serious. Stopping medication will cause side effects. You absolutely cannot abandon treatment or you’ll lose all your memories within eight days.] I stared at Doctor Harris Clark’s messages for the longest time, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. In the end, I didn’t reply. Maybe getting amnesia wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. I’d been alive for years, and honestly? There wasn’t a single memory in my head worth fighting to keep. I stared at Harris’ earnest message on my screen for what felt like forever before slowly typing back: [Thanks, Dr. Clark, but I’ve already decided to give up.] After turning off my phone, I glanced at the calendar. Today marked six years since James Davenport and I had started dating. I’d been planning his anniversary gift for a whole month. A tie seemed too basic, shoes too impersonal. After endless deliberation, I’d dipped into my secret savings to buy him an expensive handcrafted watch. James worked at a Fortune 500 company where he constantly rubbed shoulders with loaded bigwigs. He needed something to help him look the part. Plus, I didn’t want my memory loss condition to drag him down anymore, so I’d decided to break up with him face-to-face. But when I arrived at the restaurant we’d agreed on, James was nowhere to be seen. I waited until the water in my glass turned cold before I finally spotted him rushing in, looking totally frazzled. “Feona, I’m so sorry! The office suddenly needed me to work late. I got here as fast as I could.” I took in his disheveled appearance and couldn’t miss the hint of a hickey peeking out from his collar. Something in my brain just snapped. “You—” I started to say, but before I could finish, James wiped the sweat from his forehead and handed me a small box, smiling warmly. “This is for you. Thanks for sticking with me these past six years.” I just stared at the box he handed me, feeling nothing—no excitement, no happiness. When I opened it, there was a gorgeous bracelet nestled inside. It looked incredibly expensive, with an intricately carved peony flower that seemed almost alive. All these little details suddenly clicked together in my mind like puzzle pieces, and I understood everything in an instant. I didn’t like peonies—my sister Tracy Miller did. The scales had started tipping in my sister’s favor three months ago when I first introduced her to James. Since then, everything had changed. He stopped caring about my feelings, from buying extra gifts that weren’t for me, to constantly bringing up Tracy’s name during our dates, and finally to leaving me behind while he walked side by side with her, laughing together. When exactly had he started falling for her instead? I’d been quiet too long. James looked at me nervously and asked, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” I forced a bitter smile onto my face. “James, let’s break up,” I said, my voice ice cold. James froze, his eyes filling with disbelief before he jumped to his feet in anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What now?” he snapped, words rushing out. “Weren’t you the one crying about how nobody cared about you or remembered your special days? Weren’t you begging me to celebrate our anniversary together? And now what? You’re already bored of me? “I should’ve listened to your sister. I shouldn’t have wasted my time planning all these surprises for you! No wonder your family prefers Tracy—you don’t even come close to measuring up to her!” His words came out like bullets as he slammed his glass down on the table, still breathing hard after his angry tirade. I stared into James’ eyes, frozen in place. So this was what he looked like when he lost his cool—just another angry guy with a temper, no different from anyone else. “James,” I said quietly, “was your big surprise really just giving me the same gift Tracy wanted?” He froze, his head snapping up to look at me with the most complicated expression I’d ever seen on his face. His eyes couldn’t meet mine. “So you’re breaking up with me because you don’t like the gift?” he stammered. “If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just said so instead of making this huge deal out of nothing.” He nervously grabbed the box back and stuffed it into the shopping bag like it was evidence he needed to hide. “I can get you something else, no problem. And we can just pretend you never mentioned breaking up. “You’re too old to be playing games with your future like this.” I watched his guilty eyes and obvious attempt to cover up. Something inside me was crumbling away. On the very day I’d decided to stop my treatment, I’d been worried about how James would feel about my memory loss. I wanted to be honest with him, to wish him happiness. But he hadn’t even noticed anything weird about me these past few days. His mind was already half-occupied with that girl he’d only known for three months. He was barely present when talking to me. Did someone like that really deserve my consideration anymore?

It was already super late when I got home. I barely managed to wash up before collapsing into bed, where I spent the entire night trapped in painful, bizarre dreams. When I finally woke up, birds were chirping outside my window. It was the start of a new day—and day six in my countdown to complete memory loss. The moment I got out of bed, a dull headache started pounding behind my eyes, along with a slight fever. I stumbled downstairs, feeling like absolute garbage, hoping to make some cold medicine. But before I even reached the bottom step, I saw my massive LEGO creation—the one I’d deliberately placed in the living room—knocked over, with pieces scattered everywhere. Tracy stood there looking smug, her eyes full of challenge. “Oops, sorry, Feona,” she said with fake concern. “Your thing was in the way. I didn’t see it and accidentally kicked it over.” I stared in shock at the model I’d spent three painstaking months building, now completely destroyed. My eyes started to burn with tears. This wasn’t just any LEGO set—it was the only gift my mom had ever given me. I was raised by my grandmother from birth. My sister and I are twins, though I’m older by just five minutes. When we were born, our parents’ business was taking off, and they couldn’t handle raising two babies at once. So they made the decision to send one of us to live with my grandma in the countryside. I was the one they sent away. For eighteen whole years, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen my parents. To make up for it, my mom bought me a giant LEGO set for my eighth birthday. I was over the moon about it and assembled it with total dedication. I kept it where it would be the first thing I’d see every morning when I came downstairs. Like an idiot, I’d daydream about how perfect life would be once I finally got to live with my parents again. But that day never came. It wasn’t until three months ago when my grandma passed away that my parents finally remembered they had a child abandoned in the countryside and were forced to bring me home. I carefully carried my treasured LEGO set to my new home, thinking my mom would recognize the gift she’d once given me. Instead, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and muttered, “What are you carrying that piece of junk for? It’s going to take up so much space…” I froze, staring at this woman who was supposed to be my mother but felt like a complete stranger. That was when it hit me—the family warmth I’d been dreaming about for eighteen years might never actually be mine. I just stood there speechless while my mom, Elizabeth Miller, busy in the kitchen, heard Tracy’s apology and poked her head out. She shrugged it off, telling her, “Don’t worry about her, Tracy. That stuff costs practically nothing. No need to apologize if it breaks.” My dad, Kevin Miller, who hadn’t even looked up from his newspaper, nodded in agreement. He barely glanced at me, his face showing nothing but annoyance. “Your mom’s right. She’s definitely from the countryside, treating that junk like treasure. It’s embarrassing to even have it in our living room.” With that, he went back to his paper, like he couldn’t stand the sight of me. Tracy snuggled up to Elizabeth, playing up the victim as she whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” “There’s nothing to apologize for. Just call the maid to clean it up,” Kevin replied without bothering to look up. The three of them walked out of the living room together, leaving me with nothing but their cold backs as they disappeared. They seemed to forget I was their daughter too. Tracy and I were the same age, with identical looks, the same height, and even similar voices. Yet for some reason, they adored Tracy and couldn’t care less about me. My foggy brain didn’t want to form another word, so I shuffled to the kitchen in my slippers, found a pack of cold medicine that hadn’t expired yet, and washed it down with water. Tracy lounged on the couch, slippers dangling off her feet, her face lit up with a smile as she texted someone. Mid-conversation, she suddenly tapped on a voice message, and James’ voice pierced my ears. “Don’t be upset, Tracy. Feona never listens anyway—it’s her fault for not putting away that LEGO set properly. Just hang on, I’ll make sure she apologizes to you properly later.” His voice boomed through the huge living room from her phone’s cranked-up volume. Tracy shot me a smug look, then brought the phone to her lips and replied in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Don’t worry about it, James! I wasn’t even mad. Feona doesn’t need to apologize.” I watched her contemptuous posture and that self-satisfied tone, feeling nothing but ice in my veins. It was fine. Whatever. I’d already given up fighting my illness. Once these seven days were over, I wouldn’t remember all these painful moments anymore, and Tracy’s provocations wouldn’t hurt me anymore. For the first time ever, I found myself desperately counting down to day seven.

By day four of the countdown, my memory had started to slip. I kept forgetting what I’d just been doing or what I’d planned to do next. Several times throughout the day, I’d find myself just standing frozen in place, completely zoned out. With effort, I finally remembered something important today—I needed to collect the LEGO set that Tracy had broken. Even though I’d given up on having any real family warmth around here, that LEGO set was special. Grandma had helped me build it, and it was one of my most precious memories with her. No way was I letting them throw away my memories of my grandma like they were trash. I rushed downstairs and spotted the pieces still scattered across the living room floor, untouched. That was when it hit me—our housekeeper had taken time off recently, which explained why nobody had cleaned up the mess. I quickly grabbed a small box and started picking up the LEGO pieces one by one from the floor. The set had shattered into so many tiny fragments that I’d only collected about half of them when Elizabeth walked in the door and caught me crouched on the floor. Her forehead immediately creased with disapproval. “What are you doing down there on the floor like that?” she snapped. “You don’t look anything like a proper young lady! How am I supposed to introduce you as a Miller family daughter to anyone? “This is what happens when you’re raised in the middle of nowhere. Your grandma completely ruined your upbringing!” My hands froze mid-pickup. I took a deep breath and waited for the hurt to subside before I quietly went back to collecting the scattered pieces from the floor. I knew the LEGO set was beyond repair after that fall, but I still wanted to keep the pieces as a memento. So I knelt down, carefully collecting every broken fragment from the floor. Elizabeth tossed whatever she was holding onto the couch with an irritated huff. “Are you even listening to me?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Why can’t you be more like your sister and stop causing problems for once?” I’d just spotted the final piece and was reaching for it when Elizabeth’s foot came down hard, crushing it beneath her shoe. She glared down at me, her expression dark. “Tomorrow is your sister’s birthday. You’re going to bake her a cake yourself as an apology. Don’t ruin her day.” Elizabeth glanced at the LEGO piece under her foot like it was actual trash. “It’s just a stupid toy. Sweep it up and throw it away. What are you doing wasting time on this? Do you expect us to support you forever?” I stared at the LEGO piece—now dirty from her shoe—and felt a wave of sadness wash over me. Looking up at my mother’s annoyed expression, I let out a bitter laugh. “Mom, Tracy and I are twins. Her birthday is my birthday too.” Elizabeth’s face flickered with momentary panic as I continued, “That LEGO set you’re stepping on? It’s the only gift you’ve given me in eighteen years. Grandma raised me because you and Dad didn’t have the energy for a second child, so you handed me off to her. “Grandma didn’t raise me wrong. She was the best grandmother anyone could ask for. And I don’t think there’s anything about me that makes me unworthy of being your daughter.” Elizabeth couldn’t look me in the eye. She quickly pulled her foot back, revealing the last broken LEGO piece beneath her shoe. Without a word, I reached down and grabbed it, adding it to the pile of fragments already in the box. When I looked up, Elizabeth was still avoiding my gaze. “It’s just a stupid LEGO set, okay?” she snapped. “Go make your sister’s birthday cake like you’re supposed to. I’ll buy you a new one later.” Right, my parents had plenty of money now—they could buy me a hundred LEGO sets if they wanted. But apparently, I wasn’t important enough for them to let me share a birthday celebration with Tracy. I closed the box without another word and carried it upstairs, my chest tight with everything I couldn’t say.   Elizabeth never mentioned buying me a replacement LEGO set, and honestly, I hadn’t expected her to keep that promise anyway. By the third day of the countdown, I was starting to forget things. That morning, I spotted the box of broken LEGO pieces on my bookshelf and just stared at it, trying to remember why they were there. Nothing came to mind. No matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn’t recall what had happened to them. Something in my gut told me they mattered—that they were important somehow. But if they were so damn important, why had I smashed them to pieces in the first place? If something broke so easily, maybe it wasn’t all that important anyway, right? I dumped the box of scattered LEGO pieces into the trash can outside our door and headed back to the kitchen to tackle tonight’s dinner. Tracy’s birthday was today, and Elizabeth had asked me to stay home and cook while she and Kevin took Tracy to the mall for gift shopping. It was already 8 PM when Tracy and my parents were back. I had just placed the cake I’d made on the dining table when I looked up and froze. James was with them, arms loaded with shopping bags, his eyes fixed on Tracy with that soft look he gets. He didn’t even notice me standing there at the table, feeling like complete trash. Something twisted in my chest. I dropped my gaze and silently untied my apron. Kevin shrugged off his jacket and plopped down in a chair. “I asked you to make a cake, not a whole feast,” he complained. “Such a waste if we can’t finish all this.” I paused mid-fold with the apron but kept my mouth shut. Tracy smirked as she dug through her pile of presents, casually tossing a small box my way. “Happy birthday, Feona,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. I opened it and immediately recognized the earrings inside. They were freebies from some luxury clothing brand—nothing special, just basic studs they hand out as promotional items. I forced the corners of my mouth up into what probably looked like a grimace and pushed the box back toward her. “No thanks,” I said. “I stopped celebrating birthdays a long time ago.” “Just take it, alright? Tracy picked this gift out for you specially at the mall.” James frowned, clearly annoyed as he pulled out a chair for Tracy. “Here, Tracy.” Tracy settled into her seat with a smug smile, her challenging stare fixed on me the entire time. Elizabeth jumped right in, cutting a slice of cake and sliding it in front of Tracy. After just one tiny bite, Tracy let out a blood-curdling scream and knocked the entire plate to the floor. “There’s mango in this!” she shrieked, immediately starting to gag and retch. Elizabeth rushed over to check on her, roughly shoving me aside. “Your sister is allergic to mangoes, you idiot! Why would you put mango in the cake? Were you trying to kill her or something?” The force of her push sent me stumbling backward until my lower back slammed against the corner of the table. The pain was so intense my face went completely white. “No, I… I just forgot… I didn’t mean to…” I stammered, trying desperately to explain myself. But nobody was listening. The room had erupted into total chaos. “Feona, you need to get on your knees and beg for Tracy’s forgiveness!” James roared, glaring at me like I was a complete stranger. “What the hell is wrong with you? Her allergies could literally kill her! How can you be so goddamn heartless?” Everyone stared at me with pure accusation in their eyes. I felt tears welling up as panic took over. I wanted to explain, to defend myself, but the words wouldn’t come. The air felt thinner and thinner, like I was drowning. All their faces started to blur, like I was looking at them through murky water. Everything went muffled and hazy. I barely registered Kevin and Elizabeth rushing Tracy to the hospital, or James running to get the car. The last thing I caught before he left was him pointing his finger in my face, still hurling insults at me until the very last second. My vision started swimming, and once everyone had cleared out, my body finally gave up. I crashed to the floor with a sickening thud. I was out cold for two days straight. No clue who dragged me to the hospital, but here I was, sprawled across a bed in the inpatient ward. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled my lungs, and weirdly enough, I felt a strange sense of peace wash over me. That peace didn’t last long. The commotion erupted in the hallway before the door burst open, kicked in by a middle-aged man. The nurse on duty got shoved aside, still trying to do her job as she protested, “The patient needs rest! You can’t just barge in here—” But the man cut her off before she could finish. “Your sister’s been in the hospital for two days, and what do you do? Fake being sick so you can lie around in here without even checking on her once! How did we end up with such an ungrateful daughter?” Behind him stood a haggard-looking middle-aged woman and a younger guy. I stared at all three of them, completely blank. I had zero idea who these people were. The middle-aged man glared at me coldly. “Get up right now. You’re quitting that job of yours. Your mother hasn’t been well lately, so you’re staying home to take care of her.” “And in a few days,” he continued, “we’re arranging a marriage for you. After that, you’ll just stay at home where you belong.” I kept staring at this man who wouldn’t stop talking, plus the two strangers hovering behind him. After what felt like forever, I finally found my voice and asked quietly, “Who are you people?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397720”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #B×G

“Stay out of trouble and live a good life,” the prison guard advised as he opened the gate. Meryl Stone nodded absently. She had never imagined she would make it out alive after those three torturous years. She limped along the wall, each step slow and painful. The feet that once danced ballet now felt like they were walking on knives. Rain drizzled from the gray sky as she stepped into freedom. The biting wind made her shiver and wrap her arms around herself. A sleek Porsche Cayenne pulled up beside her. The sight of the license plate made her blood run cold. The window rolled down, revealing a man’s stern, emotionless face. “Why are you limping?” Dalton Aniston’s eyes flicked to her legs, his voice icy. Meryl’s eyes stung with unshed tears. This was the man she had loved for seven years, her fiancé, the same man who had ensured she was sent to prison. Was this supposed to be concern? From her very first day in prison, she had been beaten by the other inmates. They said Dalton had paid them to make her suffer. But he hadn’t always been like this. She remembered being fourteen, new to the city from a small town. Her father, Malcolm Stone, had enrolled her in an elite school, a fresh start that quickly turned sour due to Lydia Stone’s manipulations. One day, during a brutal snowstorm, Meryl had been locked in an outdoor bathroom stall, freezing and terrified. She screamed for help until her voice gave out, but no one came. Then, Dalton had kicked the door open. The memory was still vivid, like the icy air, him standing there with snow swirling around. His unbuttoned uniform billowed in the wind, wet hair clinging to his forehead. In the dim light, she couldn’t see his expression, but she remembered him taking off his scarf and tossing it to her. “Here, take this,” he had said, turning away without looking back. To fourteen-year-old Meryl, seventeen-year-old Dalton was a hero, her first beacon of hope. From that moment, she had loved him deeply, following him for seven years. But in the end, all she got was a life worse than death. ***** “Get in,” Dalton commanded, his arm resting casually on the window frame. His custom suit highlighted his tall, imposing frame, and he radiated a cold, aristocratic detachment. Meryl recognized the impatience in his voice, reminiscent of her parents. At fourteen, she was brought back to the Stone family, where her parents initially felt guilty and wanted to make up for lost time. But under the manipulative influence of Lydia, whom they had raised for fourteen years, they gradually distanced themselves from her. When Meryl was twenty-one, Lydia falsely accused her, triggering an explosion of pent-up resentment from the Stone family. “Sure, Lydia isn’t our blood, but what’s her fault? She’s been with us for years. We brought you back. What more do you want?” “Meryl, how could you do this to Lydia? It’s obvious you weren’t raised with us. You’re nothing like her.” Everyone accused her of kidnapping Lydia and plotting against her. They never gave her a chance to explain, sentencing her to prison without a second thought. They never believed her, not once. Dalton’s eyes stayed on Meryl. Seeing her still frozen in place, he snapped, “Get in the car!” His eyes drifted to her legs, spotting a gruesome scar wrapped around her ankle. It looked like it had been slashed with a sharp object, an ugly reminder of her suffering. He turned away and called, “Elias.” His assistant, Elias Sterling, got out of the driver’s seat and approached her. “Ms. Stone, Mr. Aniston wants you to get in the car.” When Meryl still didn’t move, Elias reached out to pull her. Instinctively, she crouched down, covering her head, her voice breaking. “No, please don’t hit me…” Elias was stunned by her reaction, his face showing his shock. She had changed so much that he barely recognized her at first. She used to be so vibrant and full of life, known for her beauty. Now, the light in her eyes was gone, replaced by fear and dread. Three years in prison had turned her into a shadow of her former self. Elias instinctively glanced back at Dalton, but his face remained as calm and indifferent as ever. “Meryl, how much longer do you plan on making me wait? Three years in prison, and you still haven’t learned your lesson?” Meryl slowly got up and slid into the car, carefully keeping her distance from him. The heater was on, but she huddled in a corner, still shivering from the rain and cold. Her head felt foggy, and despite trying to hold it in, she sneezed. The car hit a speed bump, causing Meryl to lurch forward and fall to her knees on the floor. Dalton, who had been resting with his eyes closed, snapped them open at the sound. He glanced at her, his voice dripping with disdain. “Meryl, you really are a mess.” She took a deep breath, his words making her feel even smaller. The car mat felt scorching under her, and she fidgeted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up later,” she whispered. Dalton cut her off sharply, “No need. Everything will be thrown away.” A bitter thought crossed Meryl’s mind. “Is it because I touched it?” Her lips trembled, a hint of bitterness creeping onto her face. She turned to look out the window, her eyes growing red. In Dalton’s eyes, everything she touched was dirty and had to be discarded. “In your eyes, only Lydia is clean, isn’t she?” Dalton’s face hardened, a rare flicker of anger in his eyes. “You don’t get to talk about her. This is your last warning. If you ever harm Lydia again… If prison didn’t teach you, I’ll make sure you learn another way!”

Meryl’s face drained of color, her eyes losing their light. The hellish three years she had endured should have taught her something. She took a deep breath, struggling to control the whirlwind of emotions inside her, her fingers clenching into fists. As the car passed under a bridge, the shifting light cast shadows on Dalton’s face, highlighting his unchanged coldness and detachment. Swallowing her bitterness, Meryl asked, “Dalton… was it really you who paid those people in prison?” In prison, she had broken down multiple times, even contemplating death. But she couldn’t let go of Dalton. She feared he wouldn’t manage well without her care. She couldn’t believe he could be so cruel to her. Dalton’s response was chillingly calm. “What kind of answer are you looking for?” Meryl froze for a moment, then a wry smile twisted her lips. Was this his way of confirming it? In his eyes, she was jealous of Lydia and had arranged for her kidnapping, leading to Lydia nearly being molested. The evidence had been overwhelming, leaving Meryl without any defense. Lydia had been ruthless enough to gamble her own reputation, and she had won. Meryl suddenly felt that her seven years of love were utterly laughable. Her gaze grew empty as the car pulled up to what had once been her and Dalton’s future home. Every detail of the house had been painstakingly overseen by Meryl, from the major renovations down to the placement of flower pots. She had even been hands-on with tasks like painting. She had spent countless days and nights dreaming of a life there with Dalton. But now, the house was filled with Lydia’s belongings. Meryl’s heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. Her lips turned pale from how hard she was biting them, her heart frozen solid. Dalton seemed oblivious to her distress. To the maid who came out to greet them, he said, “She’s filthy. Take her to clean up first.” The maid nodded and led Meryl to the bathroom. Once inside, the maid covered her nose, clearly at a loss. Finally, unable to hold back, the maid said with disdain, “Miss, how long has it been since you last bathed? As a young woman, you should really take better care of yourself.” At twenty-four, Meryl wished nothing more than to feel clean and refreshed again. She didn’t say a word. After dismissing the maid, she locked herself in the bathroom and scrubbed at her skin for a solid hour. The wounds from her prison days still plagued her. During her three years in prison, she had been subjected to relentless cruelty. Though the last month had brought some respite, her old injuries had not healed. Many were hidden from view, ranging from bruises and scratches to long, jagged scars. The prison had offered no proper care, and untreated injuries had festered. The most painful was a deep scar on her left foot, which throbbed with each rainstorm, reminding her of its existence. Whenever the pain became too much to bear, Meryl would console herself, believing that the agony would eventually fade. When she emerged, she slipped into the fresh clothes provided by the maid, which fit her surprisingly well. However, as soon as she opened the bathroom door, she walked straight into Dalton. She stumbled, nearly falling backward. Instinctively, Dalton’s hand shot out to steady her, wrapping around her waist. The embrace was jarring for both of them. Meryl’s heart raced as she found herself pressed against his chest, the heavy scent of nicotine wafting from him. Quickly regaining her composure, she pulled away, creating some distance. She tried to sound composed as she said, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to…” Meryl caught sight of the cigarette in Dalton’s hand and figured he must have been heading out for a smoke when their paths crossed. “What did you call me?” Dalton’s eyes narrowed sharply. “What’s your game this time, Meryl?” She bit her lip, her eyes stinging with tears she struggled to hold back. It seemed that in his eyes, no matter what she did, it was always wrong. Dalton’s expression darkened as he put the cigarette back in his mouth. He didn’t want to admit that her sudden departure from his embrace had left him feeling unexpectedly hollow. Especially now, seeing her tearful eyes stirred a primal impulse within him, a desire to lash out. He lit the cigarette with a flicker of impatience, his throat tightening as he suppressed the desire inside. “So, after three years, you’ve only gotten better at seducing men?” A sardonic smile played at his lips. “Can’t wait, huh?”

Meryl struggled to catch her breath, her fingers gripping the edges of her sleeves as if they might anchor her to sanity. Why did he have to not only reject her but also humiliate her? After a moment, she steadied herself, looked up at Dalton, and forced a smile. “Dalton, just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean you can belittle me.” Dalton was momentarily taken aback by her smile, a rare sight these days. He found himself staring at her longer than intended, but by the time he processed it, Meryl had already averted her gaze. He loosened his tie and stubbed out his cigarette, acknowledging that Meryl had changed. Though he wouldn’t admit it, she wasn’t the same woman who used to light up a room with her smile. It was as if her spirit had withered away. It didn’t affect him directly, but it stirred an unsettling discomfort within him. Dalton couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him. Shaking off the confusion, he reminded her, “Today is Lydia’s birthday. I’ll be taking you back to the Stone Villa later, but remember to behave. Don’t cause trouble. Lydia is nothing like you.” Meryl’s heart sank at his words. To Dalton, Lydia was a cherished prize, while she was deemed unworthy even as a mere accessory. ***** An hour later, Meryl was ushered into a car by Elias. At the Stone Villa, the grand hall was filled with guests. Even though Lydia wasn’t Malcolm’s biological daughter, her birthdays were always celebrated with great fanfare. It was a show of the Stone family’s status and their support for her, subtly reinforcing her position. Everyone of importance in Kingsdom had been invited. The hall was abuzz with wealthy women discussing the latest high-society gossip. “Why is Lydia so favored when she isn’t even Mr. Stone’s biological daughter? Is there something we don’t know?” someone wondered aloud. “She has the skills and talent. In our circle, that’s what really matters. Bloodlines are secondary to the benefits you bring.” Another socialite nodded in agreement. “I heard Lydia has already closed several major deals within six months of joining the company. Mr. Stone was so impressed that he promoted her to vice president, clearly grooming her as a successor.” “But she’s still an outsider. Isn’t that like giving the company away? What about her real parents? Why isn’t she with them?” “No one knows where her biological parents are,” came the response from someone in the know. “It’s odd because Camille Foster, who adopted Meryl, was supposed to be Lydia’s mother, but their paternity test proved otherwise.” Meryl clenched her fists as she overheard this. She still couldn’t understand why Lydia and Camille weren’t biologically related. She had assumed that Camille swapped them to give Lydia a better life, but it turned out Lydia wasn’t even her child. No one knew the exact details, but the result was clear. Meryl was returned to the Stone family, while Lydia’s origins remained a mystery. Lydia had been with the Stone family for over twenty years, and the Stone couple treated her as well, if not better, than their own child. As a few socialites chatted among themselves, their eyes subtly drifted toward Meryl. Noticing their gaze, Meryl lowered her head and quickly exited the hall. Just after she left, one of the women who had been talking turned to the others and said, “Didn’t that woman who just walked by look a bit like Meryl?” The others followed her gaze. “Meryl? No way. She was known for her striking beauty and figure. The woman who just passed by looked like a skeleton. Are you kidding?” In the past, Meryl was the kind of person who stood out even in a crowd of beauties. Now, however, she was almost unrecognizable… Unaware that she had become the topic of conversation, Meryl reached the second floor and was about to push open her room’s door when she overheard voices that made her freeze. “Dalton, I heard Meryl’s out of prison. Is that true?” “Meryl? The one who used to be glued to Dalton? When did she end up in prison? What on earth did she do?” The Stone family had worked hard to keep the scandal under wraps. The official story was that Meryl had been studying abroad, thanks to Malcolm’s efforts to cover up the truth. Dalton shot a frosty glance at Billy Preston, who immediately realized his mistake. He slapped his forehead and tried to smooth things over. “Oops, I got that wrong. Meryl was abroad, not in prison.” A wealthy young man who had been listening took a drag from his cigarette and commented, “Billy, you’re really losing it.” Billy chuckled nervously. “Oh, come on. Everyone makes mistakes.” The young man shifted the conversation back. “With Meryl back, things must be heating up around Dalton, right? If I remember correctly, you two were engaged three years ago. Dalton, any plans for a wedding?” Meryl hesitated, her hand frozen on the door handle. Inside, the sounds of a card game were audible. Billy smiled jokingly, “Engaged? Come on. Marriage is just a way to keep someone under control. Dalton isn’t the type to be tied down by something like that.”

The other man laughed. “But Meryl is quite the looker, isn’t she? With that face and figure, she’d turn heads anywhere. Keeping her around as a trophy wife wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” He glanced at Dalton, tossing a card onto the table. “Dalton, are you really okay with letting someone else have her?” Dalton finally spoke, his tone flat and uninterested. “You want her? Then take her.” The man was taken aback, unsure if Dalton was serious or just messing with him, and chuckled awkwardly. “Everyone knows Meryl’s been devoted to you. She’s followed you around all these years. I guess I’m not that lucky.” Outside the door, Meryl was taken aback, her face twisting into a bitter smile. It was well known that she loved Dalton, but hearing him casually offer her up like a prize was a painful blow. The sting of humiliation made her eyes well up. She clenched her fists tightly, feeling overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of betrayal. This was the man she had loved for ten years, and this was how he treated her. Fighting back tears, she moved to the window, pulled out a long-forgotten number, and dialed it. As the phone rang, someone called out to her from behind. “Meryl? You’re back?” Glancing at her phone, she ended the call and turned to see who was calling. Her mother, Bianca Stone, looking surprised to see her, approached with a skeptical expression. “When did you get out?” How absurd. Bianca had remembered Lydia’s birthday but had forgotten Meryl’s release. “You’ve lost so much weight,” she said, frowning as she assessed Meryl. “A little hardship can be good for you. It teaches you lessons. Your father and I won’t hold the past against you. Today’s both your and your sister’s birthday. Change into a dress quickly.” Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Oh, right. Since you’ve been gone for three years, your room has been repurposed into a game room. Go ahead and change in your sister’s room for now. I’ll have someone bring the clothes to you.” Meryl was pushed into Lydia’s room. The moment she stepped inside, the strong perfume made her stomach churn. She rushed to the bathroom, struggling to keep from gagging. Just then, the sound of footsteps outside the door signaled the arrival of the maid with the dress. Meryl leaned over the sink, her eyes red from vomiting. Once the nausea subsided, she washed her face and went back to the room. The maid was waiting inside, eyeing Meryl up and down as she emerged. “I’m not pregnant,” Meryl preempted her, knowing what the maid was thinking. She had been so sick that her eyes were still bloodshot, making her look extremely weak. “Tell Lydia not to make a fuss about this.” The maid gave a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t thinking that. Just get dressed and come downstairs quickly. Mrs. Stone is waiting for you.” Meryl was aware that the birthday party was for Lydia, and she was merely an afterthought. Not wanting to feign sisterly affection with Lydia while feeling nauseous, she went to the kitchen to get some food. She had barely eaten a few bites when someone knocked on the door. It was still the same maid. “Mrs. Stone needs to see you. Miss, please come downstairs!” Meryl took her time finishing her last bite before looking up. “I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to go downstairs.” The maid was taken aback, clearly not expecting Meryl to refuse. “Madam said it’s not appropriate for you to miss today’s event. It would look bad if you and Ms. Lydia Stone aren’t seen together.” “When have Lydia and I ever been on good terms?” The maid was momentarily speechless, but fortunately, Meryl had already risen and was heading out. In the grand hall, Lydia, dressed to the nines, was surrounded by a group of wealthy young ladies. She held a glass of white wine, about to take a sip when a sudden, startling voice interrupted. “Ms. Lydia Stone, don’t drink that wine! It’s been tampered with!”

“What?” Lydia looked up, startled. “What are you talking about?” The maid shot a glance at Meryl. “I saw Ms. Stone go into the kitchen and put something into your drink. It looked like some kind of drug.” Several faces turned pale as the maid’s words sank in. Everyone in the Stone family remembered the kidnapping incident three years ago. Lydia had been abducted after drinking a spiked beverage. Hearing that it might be happening again made Lydia’s face go white, and her hand trembled, causing her wine glass to shatter on the floor. The crash of the glass drew attention from the crowd, who now looked over curiously. Lydia, with red-rimmed eyes, turned to Bianca. “Mom… “I’m so scared…” Bianca, realizing what Lydia feared, quickly comforted her. “Don’t be afraid. It’s all in the past.” Then, she turned her gaze towards Meryl, her expression hardened. “Still up to your old tricks?” Though Bianca didn’t directly accuse Meryl in front of everyone, Meryl knew exactly what she meant. It seemed Lydia was trying to use this situation to frame her again. Meryl, who had been holding back laughter at the absurdity, spoke up. “It wasn’t me.” She glanced at the drink in the decanter. Lydia had a special preference for white wine, which had been prepared just for her. It was clear Lydia had anticipated this. “I did go to the kitchen, but I was just looking for something to eat, not to tamper with her drink.” The maid persisted, “But I saw you add something to it. I swear I didn’t lie!” The maid’s certainty was almost theatrical, like a crusader standing up to a powerful foe. Around them, murmurs and whispers began to circulate among the guests. Bianca was anxious to keep the matter contained, knowing that family issues should be handled privately. Publicizing them would only bring embarrassment. Lydia, sensing her mother’s unease, gave her a reassuring smile. “Mom, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. “Meryl has spent three years in prison. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I trust she is innocent.” Her words caused a stir as the guests had been led to believe that Meryl was studying abroad. In their high-society circles, the mention of prison was a serious blemish, a mark that could affect one’s reputation and even that of their family for generations. The room buzzed with whispers. Lydia seemed to realize she had misspoken and quickly tried to cover up, her face a mask of guilt. “I was just drunk and rambling. Don’t take it seriously. How could my sister ever have been to prison?” But her attempt to backtrack only seemed to confirm the suspicion. Her evident discomfort made it clear to everyone that there was some truth to the claim. Trying to salvage the situation, Lydia said, “Meryl, since you’ve just returned from abroad, have you adjusted to the time difference? Today is our birthday, and I’ve prepared a special gift for you. Would you like to see it?” Meanwhile, the noise from downstairs had reached Dalton, who came down to find Lydia looking fragile and distressed, apologizing to Meryl in a pitiful manner. Her eyes were red, her hands clasped nervously as she carefully watched Meryl’s reaction. Meryl turned to look at her. This was nothing new. Lydia had always had a talent for playing the innocent victim, no matter how many times she tried to frame her. Meryl felt cornered, the stares from the crowd making her feel increasingly exposed. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she was being unjustly accused and manipulated by Lydia. It seemed that for Lydia, three years in prison wasn’t enough. The public revelation of Meryl’s imprisonment was meant to ruin her life. Meryl’s frustration grew. If Lydia wanted to drag her down, maybe it was time to bring everyone down together!

“Yeah, I did time.” Meryl’s eyes swept over the crowd, finally landing on Lydia. Lydia reached out to grab her hand. “Meryl, stop saying that. I just spoke without thinking, okay?” Meryl pulled back, avoiding Lydia’s touch, yanking her hand away forcefully. Unexpectedly, Lydia stepped on the hem of her dress and fell to the ground. The fall was hard, and shards from a broken glass on the floor hadn’t been cleaned up yet. Dalton immediately rushed over, pushing through the crowd to help Lydia up. Her hand was a bloody mess, with shards embedded in her skin. Dalton’s eyes blazed with anger as he glared at Meryl. “Meryl, you never learn! I warned you…” Meryl’s heart skipped a beat. She knew Dalton didn’t care about her, but seeing him protect another woman still hurt. “What did I do? I just pulled my hand away. She fell on her own.” Seeing their hands clasped together, Meryl felt a pang of irony. She lowered her gaze, gently touching a spot on her chest where a pendant hung, a gift from someone long ago. In prison, during countless moments of despair, she had clung to that pendant to get through it. When she looked up again, her eyes were cold. She smiled bitterly and continued, “Yeah, I was in prison, but I was framed.” Bianca’s face turned pale as Meryl admitted her imprisonment. Initially, when Lydia exposed Meryl’s past, Bianca also suspected it was intentional. But watching Lydia apologize and try to cover it up, she believed it was just a slip of the tongue. She had watched Lydia grow up and couldn’t believe she had such malicious intentions. Not wanting things to get out of hand, Bianca tried to smooth things over. “Meryl, you’ve had too much to drink. Let them help you upstairs to sober up.” But Meryl ignored her, her voice steady. “Three years ago, if I had really kidnapped Lydia, I could have made her disappear without a trace. Why would I leave evidence for you to find her?” Suddenly, a sharp slap echoed through the room. Malcolm had emerged from his study, his face stern. “Meryl, stop this nonsense right now!” he commanded. Her cheek stung, but Meryl didn’t flinch. “Lydia only had minor injuries. If those men had really wanted to do something to her, they would have done it when they first took her. Why bother taking her to an abandoned factory? It makes no sense.” The crowd was stunned, eyes widening in disbelief. Whispers spread through the room as people glanced at Lydia, who bit her lip, her face ashen. Malcolm was furious. This incident had been a forbidden topic in the Stone family for years. Now, Meryl was airing their dirty laundry in front of everyone, turning them into a spectacle. His one daughter ended up in prison, and the other was nearly assaulted all because of a bitter feud between sisters. It was the kind of scandal that made for juicy gossip in high society. Tears streamed down Lydia’s face, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed quietly. Meryl let out a cold laugh, thinking, “Can’t handle this, can you?” Compared to her own suffering, this was nothing. Bianca shot Meryl a warning look, urging her to be quiet. Three years ago, they had agreed to send Meryl to prison to teach her a lesson because she had refused to admit her mistake, and they thought she was beyond help. Bianca sometimes wondered if they had been too harsh. After all, Meryl was their daughter. But Lydia had insisted that being a Stone family member would protect her in prison. They believed this might be the only way to set Meryl straight, fearing she would otherwise go down the wrong path. Bianca had reluctantly agreed. Meryl had been raised by Camille, who had also raised a gambling, lazy son. With that kind of upbringing, Meryl needed some serious correction to set her on the right path. “Why bring this up now?” Bianca’s voice was full of frustration. “Can’t you see Lydia is crying?” Meryl’s expression turned mocking. “Right, I went to prison for her, and she’s the one crying.” She bent down, lifting the hem of her dress to reveal an ugly scar on her ankle, causing a collective gasp from the room. “But who cares if I’m hurting?” Meryl’s fingers traced the scar. The damp weather made it ache slightly, but she was used to it. “I’ve always wondered who paid off those inmates to treat me like that. I have dozens of scars. Want to see?” They had claimed it was Dalton, but Meryl didn’t believe it. She wanted to know, in front of everyone, who was truly responsible. The sight of her scar made the daughters of the wealthy families present feel a pang of sympathy. They had been pampered their whole lives and had never suffered like this. “Was it you?” Meryl looked at Malcolm and Bianca, then quickly shifted her gaze to Lydia. “Or you?” Finally, her eyes locked on Dalton.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397714”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #Revenge #Marriage #B×G #BillionaireRomance #Prisoner

Charlotte had crashed her car. As she lay on the operating table, all she could think about was the photo she’d seen right before the accident. The one of Arthur holding another woman, looking at her like she meant everything to him. She couldn’t get it out of her head – how gently he held her, the way his eyes lit up. She’d been so shocked looking at it, she didn’t even see the other car coming. She might be his wife, but that woman was clearly the one he truly loved. Five years of marriage, and he’d never once looked at Charlotte that way. Just thinking about it made her chest ache. Now his first love was back in the picture, and Charlotte had to wonder if she even mattered to him anymore. A thought suddenly crossed her mind. She needed to know if he still had feelings for her at all. When she opened her eyes, she was met with a stark white ceiling, and confusion washed over her. “You’re awake,” a deep, cold voice said from beside her. Charlotte turned to see a face set like stone. His features were sharp and chiseled, his expression impossible to read. Though his eyes seemed capable of warmth, they held none of it now as they stared at her. Charlotte blinked, confused. “Who are you?” She looked around, lost. “Where am I?” Arthur frowned. Those steel-gray eyes of his seemed to pierce right through her. Unable to bear the weight of his stare, Charlotte retreated behind a facade of timidity. “W-why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice quivered, not entirely an act. Even now, after everything, his presence could unsettle her so easily. Arthur looked away almost instantly, his voice as cold as ever. “Nothing. And… I’m just a friend of yours.” The words hit her like physical blows. Each syllable carved new wounds into her heart, deeper than any knife could reach. Five years – five years of marriage, of carefully molding herself into what she thought he wanted. All of it reduced to “friend” in a single breath. All those years of love and devotion had meant nothing. Just then, the door opened, and a young boy who looked just like Arthur walked in. It was Julius Harrison, their son. He walked straight to Arthur without even looking at her. “Dad, let’s go. Sarah’s waiting for us to watch her show.” Charlotte gripped the bedsheet tightly, his words hitting her hard. She gave a bitter laugh. This was her own flesh and blood, the baby she’d carried for nine months. Yet here he was, refusing to even look at her while she lay injured in bed. Like father, like son – both of them completely wrapped up in Sarah Miller. People always said boys never really get their mothers. Now she felt the sting of what her own kid had become. Arthur had always been cold, and here was Julius, turning out just like him. At home, he barely acknowledged her, and in public, he acted like she was just some housewife who didn’t matter. Charlotte felt something inside her go cold. If they thought she was worthless, fine. She’d leave them to it. Thinking this, Charlotte made a silent decision in her heart.

Five years of trying to make this marriage work, all that love and effort she’d put in… what a waste. Later, Arthur’s assistant came to handle her discharge paperwork. Keeping up her act of memory loss, Charlotte looked at the assistant. “Who are you?” Grace Johnson hesitated briefly. “I’m Mr. Harrison’s assistant. I’m here to take you home.” “Mr. Harrison?” “The man who was just here. Your husband.” Charlotte let out a silent, bitter laugh while keeping her expression neutral and puzzled. “So why would he tell me we’re just friends?” “I honestly don’t know,” Grace sighed. She couldn’t understand her boss’s thinking. His wife had lost her memory in a car crash, and he chose to call her just a friend. “Was this an arranged marriage?” Charlotte mused, keeping up her act. “Is that why he’s saying we’re just friends?” Grace stayed quiet, leaving Charlotte’s question unanswered. The car rolled to a stop outside Rose Villa. Charlotte’s chest tightened at the sight of the familiar house. Unbidden, the image from that photo flooded her mind – Arthur holding Sarah, their bodies close, his eyes soft with a tenderness she’d never seen directed at her. The pain hit her like a physical blow. These feelings for him, she realized, weren’t going to fade easily. This was the house they had shared, the place where they’d built their life together. Five years ago, he had been drugged, and she’d woken up in his bed. Their families quickly arranged the marriage, and everything had been set in motion. On their wedding night, he’d been blunt: “I don’t have feelings for you, but I won’t betray you. Let’s just be a marriage of convenience.” A marriage of convenience meant no love, just business. She’d agreed. But gradually, Arthur started controlling every part of her life, telling her what to wear and how to look. For a while, Charlotte fooled herself into thinking he was starting to care. She felt hopeful and tried harder to be the perfect wife he seemed to want. Six months after they married, she got pregnant with Julius, and she started dreaming of a happy family. But Arthur never changed. He stayed cold, only showing passion in bed. And she always fell for it. Five years later, when she found Sarah’s photo, reality hit her like a splash of cold water. Everything about her – her clothes, her hair, her makeup – was copying Sarah! Now it all made sense. He’d been so involved because he was trying to turn her into Sarah. She was just a replacement. After five years together, she finally saw the truth. Her life had been nothing but a cruel joke. The tears came without warning. “Are you okay?” Grace asked, concerned.

Charlotte touched her wet cheeks, confused. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” Grace just watched her with sympathy. Pulling herself together, Charlotte walked into the house. A housekeeper immediately approached her. “Ma’am, Mr. Harrison and young Mr. Julius will be home in two hours. Would you like to start dinner preparations?” For five years, Charlotte had handled everything for Arthur – cooking his meals, choosing his clothes, even picking out his accessories. She’d done it all hoping he would fall in love with her someday. But now she knew that her feelings would never be returned. Charlotte looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would I need to cook dinner?” The housekeeper stared at her, startled. “Ma’am, are you feeling okay?” At that moment, Grace explained Charlotte’s condition to the servant. The servant’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Ma’am, you should rest. We’ll take care of dinner.” “I’m not feeling great. Which way is the bedroom?” Charlotte asked, rubbing her temples. The maid showed her upstairs, and Charlotte just crashed onto the bed. Her head was swimming as she tried to figure out her next move. Divorce. That had to be first. She must have dozed off, but it wasn’t a good sleep. Her dreams were filled with the last five years – all the manipulation, the cold shoulders, and the moments when Arthur’s eyes would burn with passion during their intimacy, only to whisper those damning words. “Sarah, I love you.” Charlotte jolted awake, breathing hard, her chest still tight with pain. She spun around when she felt those cold eyes on her. Arthur filled the doorway with his tall frame. He walked in, casually undoing his shirt buttons, moving with that natural grace he always had – the kind that screamed old money. His sharp features and thick brows made him look like something out of a magazine. When he looked her way, his eyes were cold and distant, like he couldn’t care less. His tight-lipped expression didn’t help either. Charlotte pushed herself up slowly, keeping up her confused act. “They told me you’re my husband? Why did you tell me we’re just friends?” Arthur paused in the middle of undoing his buttons, his eyes flicking over to her. “Because there’s nothing between us,” he replied flatly. She pressed further, unwilling to let it go. “Then why did we even get married?” His gaze remained distant, his voice detached. “It was an accident.” Charlotte’s hand, hidden under the blanket, clenched the sheets tightly. “And the child… is he really ours?” Arthur’s patience was wearing thin. “It was another accident. Don’t overthink it.” Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. She looked down, fighting back tears. “So this whole time… we’ve been living together without any feelings. If that’s how it is…” “Let’s get a divorced!”

She looked up at him, expecting agreement, waiting for him to say they should end this. After all, his true love was back, and Charlotte was ready to step aside. An image of Julius – so much like his father – flashed through her mind, making her heart clench. But she kept her face neutral, waiting for the ‘yes’ she was sure would come. Instead, his voice cut through the air, cold and sharp: “Our marriage may have been arranged, but it’s been peaceful for five years. There’s no need for divorce.” No? She wanted to laugh. How do you plan to marry Sarah without divorcing me first? The words burned in her throat, but she swallowed them down. “But I don’t like you,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t even know you. We can’t live like this. Neither of us will be happy.” Arthur’s face darkened as his jaw clenched. In one fluid motion, he crossed the room and pinned her to the bed, looming over her with his face just inches from hers. Charlotte’s heart pounded as she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, staring up at him in shock. “What do you think you’re doing?” she mumbled behind her palm. “Proving that our marriage is fine,” he said coldly, his eyes hard. Charlotte felt sick to her stomach. This was wrong on so many levels. First, he claims they’re just friends with no feelings involved, and now he’s trying to kiss her? Was that all she was to him – something to use when convenient? The irony made her heart twist painfully. Fighting back the hurt in her chest, Charlotte met his gaze. “Stop,” she said firmly. “I only do this with someone I have feelings for. And I don’t have any for you. You can’t force this.” There she goes again, claiming she has no feelings for him. It drove him crazy. Something inside Arthur finally snapped. His face turned stone cold as he pulled back, barely containing his anger. Charlotte flinched away from him, fear flickering across her face. Without a word, he stormed out of the room. The door slammed behind him, and Charlotte let out a shaky breath of relief. For a moment there, she’d thought he might actually force himself on her. She sat up slowly, her mind racing with confusion. If he loved Sarah so much, why wouldn’t he just divorce her? It made no sense. Before she could think it through, someone knocked on the door. “Come in.” She quickly put on her confused face as she turned to the door. “Madam, would you like something to eat?” the maid asked. Charlotte nodded sheepishly. “Actually, yes.” “Dinner’s ready downstairs if you’d like to join.” “Thanks, I’ll come down.” She felt a bit smug about how well she was playing this. She just had to keep it up until she got those divorce papers signed. Walking into the dining room, she spotted a small figure sitting perfectly still at the table, hands folded in his lap, face blank. He barely turned his head when he heard her, saying “Mom” in that same cold way his father had. Charlotte felt her chest tighten. Julius had been shipped off to Arthur’s parents at three, where they’d raised him like a tiny soldier, robbing him of any real childhood. In the beginning, he’d still run to her for hugs when he visited. But that didn’t last. Soon he’d flinch when she tried to hold him, like he couldn’t stand her touch. He started shutting her out completely. She remembered how he gave her the silent treatment for a whole week just because she’d tried to tidy up his books. These days, he was turning into a mini-version of Arthur – just as cold, just as distant. Fighting back tears, Charlotte looked at him and asked, “Are you really my kid?” Julius, aware of her supposed memory loss, kept his face blank. “Yes.” Charlotte nodded, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Then why didn’t you even look at me in the hospital? It’s like I’m not even your mother.” Julius, still too young to mask his emotions as well as his father, hesitated. His forehead creased before he answered, “I am your son. That’s just fact. Don’t say things like that.” He seemed annoyed with her attitude and, surprisingly, started to lecture her. “Don’t talk like that. People will think you’ve gone crazy from being stuck at home too long.” Charlotte’s fingers clenched, fighting back her rising anger. The contempt in his eyes was unmistakable. She used to let them both walk all over her, but not anymore. She’d decided to leave, and she wouldn’t tolerate their disrespect any longer. She took a deep breath and stood,fixing him with a hard stare.

“You little brat, where are your manners? Is this how you speak to your mother?” Julius froze. “You…” Charlotte calmly picked up her fork and started eating. “Just stop talking. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t want a son like you.” Julius stared at her, stunned. This woman who had always bent over backwards to please him and his father was suddenly different. She had never acted like this before! Back then, she’d run to him with hugs and kisses, always eager to hear about his life at Harrison Villa. Now her words cut like a knife. Julius had never really enjoyed her attention. Her constant hovering and meddling irritated him. He even thought her excessive concern for him was disrespectful to his grandparents. As Julius pulled away, Charlotte’s love never wavered – her eyes always full of warmth when she looked at him. But now she’d just said she didn’t want him as a son. Julius stood there speechless, his face hardening by the second. Given the choice, he’d pick Sarah over her any day. Sarah – the graceful, elegant ballerina who dazzled audiences – would make a much better mother figure. Julius pushed away from the table and stormed upstairs, leaving his dinner untouched. Before her accident, Charlotte would have chased after him, trying to make things right. His feelings had always come first. But this time, she just watched him go, clutching her fork tightly. Her heart hurt, but she pushed it down, feeling a bitter smile tug at her lips. This was the child she’d loved so deeply and raised with all her heart. Now here he was, scolding her, looking at her with the same cold disgust as his father. She forced herself to keep eating, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Upstairs, Julius waited for her usual apology, but for the first time, Charlotte never came. ***** After a long bath, Charlotte felt lighter. Letting go of her desperate need for Arthur’s love was surprisingly freeing. She couldn’t believe she’d wasted so much time chasing after him. She’d really thought if she could just be perfect enough, he’d fall for her. How stupid. Now she knew – love had to start with herself. Coming out of the bathroom, she dug out her old phone from the back of her closet. Five years of dust had collected on it. While it charged, she looked through her clothes. The closet was filled with soft, understated dresses – all picked to match Sarah’s style. Five years of playing dress-up as someone else. She’d been nothing but a stand-in, Sarah’s shadow. Her lip curled in disgust. Without a second thought, she dumped every dress in the trash. She was done being someone’s replacement. Her phone buzzed. An unknown number had sent a photo. The picture showed Arthur in a dim private room, lounging on a sofa. His usual cold expression was there, shirt collar undone, a woman’s hand on his chest. He held her wrist, the dark lighting making everything look intimate. Even in the poor light, she could see that tiny smirk on his face. Her fingers gripped the phone so tight her knuckles turned white. Even though she’d promised herself she was done with him, it still hurt. How had she fallen for someone so heartless? Her hands shook as she saved the photo, each moment reopening old wounds. The next evening, Arthur walked into the house to find Charlotte on the sofa. She looked completely different – she’d put on natural makeup, her curls now straight and pulled back in a simple ponytail. She looked fresh, vibrant, transformed. The desperate housewife was gone. In her place sat someone new, as if she’d finally broken free. “Perfect timing,” Charlotte said coolly, holding up her phone to show him last night’s photo. Arthur walked over slowly, his face a mask. He barely glanced at the screen before his eyes narrowed,questioning her like she was a spy, “you hired someone to spy on me?”

Charlotte was so frustrated she almost laughed. Clearly, he forgot she had amnesia! With an innocent blink, she said, “We’re not even close, so why would I sneak pics of you?” Arthur’s face got colder. He sank into the chair, giving her a weird look—like he knew her, but didn’t. When they first met, she was lively, her eyes bright like stars, showing every emotion. But after marriage, she turned into his perfect little robot wife—no makeup if he said so, dressed how he wanted, no personality, just obedience. Charlotte felt his eyes on her. She tried to stay calm, but her voice shook a bit. “You hooked up with someone else last night, right? You cheated. Got a mistress. Let’s just end this. Perfect timing. I’m over it, and you’ve got someone else. Clean break. Simple as that.” The spark in Arthur’s eyes died, replaced by cold indifference. “I didn’t cheat,” he said calmly, tugging at his tie, “You’ve got it wrong.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at his reply. Seemed he’d only admit it if she caught him in the act. His lack of honesty was frustrating. If he liked Sarah, why not just say so? It wasn’t like he had feelings for her anymore. She frowned, meeting his gaze. “Staying married doesn’t make sense. Maybe I liked you once, but not now. Are you worried about splitting the assets? Fine, I won’t ask for much—just a divorce paper.” Simple enough, right? Now, it was his turn to agree. The marriage between their families was complicated, but Charlotte just wanted a clean break. A peaceful divorce wouldn’t hurt their business ties, so why would he refuse? But Arthur’s eyes turned icy, and the room suddenly felt colder. Charlotte blinked, totally lost. What had she said to make him so angry? Arthur rubbed his temples as a headache crept in. After a sleepless night and barely eating all day, he felt awful. And instead of her usual warmth, all he got was her saying that she didn’t like him. Now, his headache was getting worse. “We’ll discuss divorce when you remember everything,” he said, voice arctic. “I’m starving. Make me dinner.” Charlotte froze, realizing her fake amnesia was pointless. The thought made her sick – he spends the night with another woman, then waltzes in demanding dinner? The nerve. “Do it yourself.” She answered. Arthur doubted his ears as he stared at her, face blank.

Then something hit him like a truck. Right. Amnesia. She couldn’t cook before they got married. His frustration spiked. Ever since she lost her memory, his perfectly controlled world had gone to hell. Like right now, Charlotte was still pushing for a divorce. Seeing Arthur’s cold look, she didn’t flinch. “Just think about it,” she continued coolly. “We’d both be better off.” “What about Julius?” Arthur shot back. “What happens to him if we split?” Charlotte paused before replying. “Like he’d care. He doesn’t see me as his mom, right?” Thank God for amnesia – it made her bold enough to say what she’d always swallowed down. The knot in her chest loosened a bit. Finally. Arthur’s eyes drilled into her, like he was trying to read her mind. She stared right back. “If he cared, he’d have shown me concern at the hospital. Let’s face it – we never got along.” She took a deep breath. “Why drag out this toxic mess? He’s a kid. He’ll be fine.” Charlotte silently prayed Arthur would just say yes. But no. His face went full ice age, dropping the room temp. She wasn’t acting. Her face was blank, her voice empty when talking about Julius. No emotion. This wasn’t the Charlotte he remembered. Before, she’d loved Julius deeply, even when he treated her with indifference. She had always been gentle, always affectionate. Whenever he came home, her eyes used to light up with love for him. But now, she was calmly talking about divorce, like it was someone else’s life. A mix of frustration and confusion stirred in Arthur. But what could he do? She had amnesia, after all. “How much have you forgotten?” Arthur asked, his voice low and sharp. Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly answered, “I don’t remember anything about you or your family. I just know I’m Charlotte Hardwick, from the Hardwick family.” She looked genuinely puzzled. “I can’t even remember why we got married.” Her confusion seemed so real that it almost made him doubt. Arthur’s jaw tightened. Seemed she had forgotten everything from the last five years. No wonder she felt like a stranger. “This can wait until Julius gets back,” he said flatly, turning away and heading for the stairs. Charlotte felt a bit relieved. Finally, he seemed to be softening. But she still had to wait another week, playing this part like a never-ending cycle of torture. That night, as she went to her room, she reached for the light switch. Just as her fingers touched it, she was slammed against the door. Then lips crashed into hers. She gasped, trying to push him away. Arthur was kissing her with no warning. The bedroom lights flickered on, blinding her for a second. Charlotte shoved him off, breathless and furiously wiping her lips. “What the hell are you doing?!” His eyes turned dark—like, seriously dark. That look of disgust on her face just made him angrier. All the anger she thought had cooled? No, it came rushing back.

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Abigail risked her life in the inferno to save her son, only to witness her husband and child escaping with another woman—her husband’s first love! Alive from the flames but dead inside for heartbreak, she made one bold choice: file for divorce and reclaim her life. But as the ashes settled, the father and son were left drowning in regret, begging the woman they had abandoned.

On my birthday, Logan Mitchell, my husband, told me he was too busy with work to celebrate with me. Instead, he had someone deliver a cake. He even called to reassure me, as if that would make up for it. “Babe, I can’t be with you today. You’re not mad at me, right? But I got a surprise for you in the cake!” I stared at the property deed I had just pulled out of the cake. The name on it wasn’t mine. It belonged to a girl I’d never heard of. I took a deep breath and said calmly, “No, I’m not mad.” I wasn’t angry. But I knew, at that moment, that our seven-year marriage was over. ***** I threw the cake in the trash and mailed the property deed to the address on the packaging. Then, I sat at the edge of my bed, feeling completely hollow, like my soul had been drained out of me. I never thought the boy who once swore he’d have no reason to live if I didn’t choose him would turn out to be so… ordinary, so filthy. What disgusted me even more was that the apartment he bought for her was in our neighborhood and the same building. His favorite saying came to mind. “The safest place is often the most dangerous.” Thinking back, I should’ve seen this coming. His affair had probably been going on for six months now. For half a year, he’d been getting work calls in the middle of the night and leaving, saying he had to put in extra hours. It wasn’t even an hour after I tossed the cake that Logan called. “Babe, don’t be mad, okay? Just wait for me to get home so I can explain.” I hung up, bitterness welling up inside me. Explain what, exactly? That he just made the one mistake all men make? As I sat there in a daze, a friend request popped up in my contacts. I tapped on it. The profile picture looked familiar. I’d seen it before on Logan’s phone. The contact name he’d saved was Max Emerson. Max was his male assistant. But this profile picture was a woman. And he was the one who kept calling in the middle of the night about work emergencies. I had met Max before. But Logan never let me hear his calls with him. So this had been right in front of me the whole time. I accepted the request. The girl messaged me first. [Hi, Vanessa! I’m Madison Brooks.] I let out a dry laugh. The same name that had been on the property deed. Then, another message came through. [Vanessa, don’t get the wrong idea about Logan. There’s nothing between us. He just treats me like a sister.] [If it bothers you, I can give up the apartment.] Then, she sent a sticker of a teary-eyed, pitiful-looking cartoon. I knew exactly why she was reaching out now. She’d been hidden away for six months. And now? She finally had a chance to step into the light. I ignored her and checked her Instagram instead. Her posts from the last six months were all about Logan. I scrolled all the way down to the beginning of their first meeting. The photo was taken in a hospital. She was lying in a bed, and Logan was peeling an apple, carving it into the shape of a rabbit. The caption read: [Oh my God, I think I’m in love. This accident must’ve been fate bringing us together!] Carving apples into rabbits. Logan’s signature trick. Back when we were young, he’d always do that just to make me laugh. I checked the date. And suddenly, I remembered something. That was the day I had a miscarriage. On his way to the hospital, Logan hit a young girl with his car. He ended up staying at the hospital, taking care of her for two whole weeks. When I finally recovered enough, I offered to go visit her with him. He told me no and said I had just gotten better and shouldn’t worry too much. And I, like a fool, actually believed it. I thought I had married the right person. I thought he was still the same boy who had promised to love me forever. But love was just an act. And he missed his calling. He would’ve made one hell of an actor.

When Logan came home and saw me sitting there calmly, waiting for him, he hesitated before walking over and sitting beside me. Then, in an attempt to please me, he pulled out a necklace. “Babe, this is the surprise I wanted to give you tonight.” The necklace in his hand was one I had admired for a long time but never bought for myself. That was just the kind of person Logan was, full of surprises, always remembering the things I liked. And yet, even now, I still couldn’t believe someone like him would cheat. He avoided talking about the affair, hoping that a gift would smooth things over. But looking at this necklace only made me feel sick. Because today was also Madison’s birthday, an hour ago, she had posted a picture of herself wearing this exact necklace on Instagram, along with a photo of a property deed. It was clear how much Logan adored her. Even after knowing I had caught him cheating, he still chose to indulge her longer. Once, all of his love belonged to me. But now, he had given it to someone else. “Let’s get a divorce, Logan.” My sudden words shattered the illusion of peace between us. The smile on Logan’s face froze. He didn’t yell or argue, almost as if he had expected this. Instead, he leaned back on the couch, looking utterly defeated. “The divorce procedure will take three months. Think it over. Without me, you have nothing. I just made a mistake, that’s all. You don’t have to do this so quickly. “Madison is just a young girl who recently graduated. Don’t go after her. She’s only at the beginning of her life. This is all on me. Whatever you want to do, do it to me.” A sharp pain twisted inside me. Logan hadn’t just divided his love. His heart had already chosen a side. And he was right. I had nothing. I had been raised by my grandmother, and when she passed, she entrusted me to him. Now, I had no one. But that didn’t mean I lacked the courage to start over. I stood up, ready to speak, but a sudden pain flared in my stomach, making me break out in a cold sweat. This was a problem I had developed years ago when I had scrimped and saved to help Logan pay off his debts after his failed startup. Back then, Logan had been beside himself with worry. He had searched everywhere for remedies, cooked nutritious meals for me no matter how exhausted he was, and made sure I took my medicine every day. Because of his care, I hadn’t had an episode in a long time. Logan rushed me to the hospital in a panic. The pain was bad this time. I needed to stay on an IV drip for a few days. It was already past midnight. I told Logan to go home and rest, but he refused, insisting on staying with me. The scene felt so familiar. There was a time when I had spent an entire night in pain, unable to sleep, and Logan had stayed up with me, on edge, not daring to rest. That night, he had been so distressed he even cried with me. But things were different now. Thinking I was asleep, Logan took out his phone and called Madison. “Baby, go to sleep, okay? I can’t be with you tonight.” “But I don’t want to! She’s already asleep anyway. Just sneak over for a bit, please? I have a surprise for you. You’ll regret it if you don’t come.” Logan didn’t answer right away. He hesitated. Then, after making sure I was really asleep, he left. Only after hearing the door close did I finally let out a quiet, pained gasp. But no matter how much my body hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

I didn’t know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, the sun was already up. Logan was sitting by the hospital bed, resting his chin on his hand, dozing off. It was as if he had never left. The IV drip had already been changed to a new bottle. He must have come back about an hour ago. My stomach was empty, and the hunger was making me uncomfortable. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, planning to order some food. But my small movement startled Logan. He looked delighted for a second when he saw me awake, then quickly noticed what I was doing. He smiled and said, “Are you hungry? I made some soup to warm your stomach. Wait here while I go heat it up.” That was when I noticed the pink food container sitting on the side table. I frowned, wanting to refuse, but before I could say anything, Logan had already grabbed the container and was heading out. Before leaving, he ruffled my hair just like he used to and told me to wait for him. Watching his back as he left, a bitter, nauseating feeling twisted inside me. Even now, he was using Madison’s food container. On my way home, Logan called. “Vanessa, why did you leave? Where are you now?” “I went home.” “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you know I stayed with you all night? I’m exhausted. Can you stop throwing tantrums?” Hearing him take credit for staying overnight, I almost laughed. “Then just think of it as me throwing a tantrum.” I hung up and told the driver to take me to the law firm instead. I printed several copies of the divorce agreement. While waiting in the car, I played on my phone for a bit and stumbled upon a viral video. Someone was being beaten up for being a homewrecker. And the homewrecker? None other than Madison. Even better, the ones beating her up were familiar faces, Logan’s sister, Sophia Grayson, and his mother, Evelyn Mitchell. Madison was pinned to the ground, getting punched and kicked. Her clothes were torn, exposing more than they should. She lay there, barely moving, her body and the ground stained with bright red blood. Someone must have called the police because soon enough, sirens blared, and both the police and an ambulance arrived. All three of them were taken away. When I got home, I was still wondering why his mother and sister had attacked Madison. Then Logan stormed in, his face twisted in fury. Before I could say a word, a stinging slap landed across my cheek. I stared at him in shock. Anger and disbelief surged through me. This was the first time he had ever hit me. “I told you to leave Madison alone! She’s just a young girl who just started working. Why are you so cruel?” Logan spat through clenched teeth. I held my face, my gaze turning ice cold. “What did I do to her? You’re talking about how your mom and sister beat her up because she was the other woman? “I didn’t tell them, Logan. And I wouldn’t waste my breath doing so.” “Don’t lie, Vanessa! If not for you, why would my mom and sister go after her? Do you have any idea that she…” Logan suddenly stopped, looking away evasively. “She’s not in good health. This is my final warning to you.” I felt a crushing pain gripping my chest, making it hard to breathe. What he stopped himself from saying… Madison was pregnant with his child. And me? After my miscarriage six months ago, the doctor said I might never be able to conceive again. So, he had wasted no time finding someone else to have his baby. Right now, I was his wife, yet he was standing here, defending his mistress to my face. He had never felt more like a stranger to me than he did at this moment. The air between us froze. Then, a sudden knock at the door broke the silence. “Mom? Sophia? What are you two doing here?” Logan had just opened the door when he saw Evelyn and Sophia standing outside, both fuming with rage. “What’s your relationship with Madison? “Why did you bail her out, too?” Sophia jabbed a finger at Logan and shoved him hard, her eyes blazing with anger. Her emotions were completely out of control. Evelyn quickly pulled her daughter back and then glared at Logan. “Logan, you better explain yourself! Why are you protecting that homewrecker? Don’t forget who your real family is!” Logan sighed helplessly and looked at both of them. “Mom, Sophia, don’t listen to Vanessa’s nonsense. Madison is just a kid who’s new to society. You didn’t even get the facts straight before attacking her. “You even ruined her reputation! If it weren’t for me, you two wouldn’t be standing here right now.” Their heated argument completely ignored my presence. I didn’t care to get involved either. I was about to head back to my room when Logan called out to me. “Vanessa, come explain everything so there’s no misunderstanding.” He winked at me, clearly signaling me to cover up the fact that Madison was, indeed, the other woman. I had no idea how his mom and Sophia found out, but one thing was for sure. I wasn’t about to lie to him. “Explain what? Explain how you got her pregnant?” Evelyn and Sophia gasped in shock at the same time. “What?! What’s going on? What’s your relationship with her?” “Vanessa, stop making things up!” Logan was clearly flustered, his confidence shaken now that I had exposed his lie. “Logan, you better tell me the truth! Why the hell do you have a child with that bitch?” Sophia was like a raging beast, throwing her purse at Logan’s head over and over. Evelyn didn’t stop her. In fact, she slapped Logan across the face and yelled. “Why did you get involved with that whore? Do you have any idea that she’s Ryan’s mistress?”

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Eighteen years ago, my husband, Anthony Parker, and his lover, Amber Owens, died in a car accident, leaving me to raise our twin boys. Eighteen years had passed in a flash. I worked hard to raise them, and they were accepted into Ivy League colleges. On the day they received their acceptance letters, Anthony and Amber miraculously came back to me. Amber hugged Anthony, smiling, “Thanks to your efforts, my sons made it to the Ivy League colleges. “Without you, we couldn’t have enjoyed ourselves for so long…” Anthony suggested divorcing me to reunite with Amber. Instead of crying, I smiled faintly, “Okay!” ***** “Mom! We are admitted into the Ivy League colleges!” I heard my sons, Micah and Maxwell, excitedly shouting in the study while I prepared dinner. “Mom! Micah and I are admitted into the Ivy League colleges!” They rushed out and hugged me tightly. I looked at them, who were a head taller than me, with satisfaction. I said, “You both are amazing. I’m so proud of you.” Since Anthony’s death, I had raised two children alone for eighteen years. Now, as they get admitted to top universities, my heart swells with joy. Back then, Anthony and Amber both died, leaving me with a pair of twins. Despite everyone’s opposition, I insisted on keeping and raising the twins. Eighteen years passed in a flash, and the twins grew up. Through my unwavering efforts, they were admitted into the Ivy League colleges. Seeing them to be successful, I was particularly delighted. “Thank you, Mom, for your years of hard work in raising us.” “We wouldn’t be who we are today without you.” Micah and Maxwell were always filial. They understood my years of effort in raising them and promised that after graduation and securing good jobs, they would support me to enjoy my life. With their birthday just two days away, I considered how to celebrate. In the past, I always booked hotel rooms for their birthdays. But this year, I decided to combine it with their graduation party for a bigger celebration. I booked a ballroom at one of the city’s best hotels. At the same time, I shared the news that my two sons were admitted to Ivy League colleges in the family group chat. The group soon buzzed with excitement. [Micah and Maxwell are so awesome!] [If Anthony knew how successful his sons were, he’d be at peace.] I briefly skimmed the messages and posted the party location to the group. After that, I turned off my phone notifications and quietly awaited the celebration.

The birthday party was set for two days later at 10:00 am. I arrived early at the hotel that morning to review the menu and ensure every detail of the party was perfect. Most attendees were relatives of the Parker family, but my parents were absent. Back then, I ignored their objections and insisted on adopting Anthony and Amber’s children. When my parents found out, they were so angry that they almost had a heart attack. Even after so many years, they never understood why I chose to raise someone else’s kids instead of leading a more secure life. Anthony’s parents, Richard and Sofia, entered the hall, assisted by the crowd. They walked straight to the main table and sat down, where Anthony’s brother and sister sat with their families. There were eight people seated at the main table. They surrounded my sons, and the seat was so full that there was no seat for me. “Hannah, what are you waiting for? Hurry and get Mom and Dad some water,” Lydia called out, grabbing some snacks from the table. Lydia was Anthony’s sister. She had endured an unhappy marriage and domestic abuse, and she was criticized for not being able to give birth to a son. Now, at forty years old, she had given birth to a boy, which made her walk with a newfound confidence. Micah and Maxwell attempted to get up to help but were restrained by Richard and Sofia. “Micah and Maxwell, come talk to me,” Sofia urged. “Look at how handsome the boys are, just like my brother,” Lydia said. “They look more like Amber to me,” Anthony’s brother remarked. Richard and Sofia glared at him fiercely, and he quickly shrank back into his seat, not daring to say a word. I moved between the tables, serving food and pouring wine. Micah and Maxwell couldn’t bear it any longer and added a chair between them. They pushed me into my seat and said, “Mom, our birthday is your day of suffering. Sit down and take a rest.” This prompted a shift in the room’s atmosphere. Lydia smirked, “Hannah, my brother would be thrilled to see his son raised so well by you.” Richard coughed lightly, effectively silencing her. “Hannah, today is such a nice day. I have something to discuss with you,” Sofia said, her eyes sparkling. “Go ahead,” I replied. Sofia continued, “Micah and Maxwell are going off to college soon. It’ll be empty for you in that three-bedroom apartment. “When they start school, Richard and I will move in, and I’ll cook for you while you work.” So that was her plan. My parents had initially put a down payment on the house I lived in, intending to add Anthony’s name. Six months into our marriage, he took a drive with Amber and had a fatal car accident. And both of them died. When I saw him again, he was just a handful of ashes. My parents had helped me pay the mortgage, so the property was solely in my name. Now, as my children grew up, Richard and Sofia were eyeing my house. I explained, “Mom, it’s not that I won’t let you live there. Micah and Maxwell will be studying abroad. “That’s why I’ve sold the house and will downsize to a one-bedroom apartment, using the rest for their education.” Richard’s face turned pale. He slammed the table. “As a part of the Parker family, why don’t you discuss such matters with us?” “I’m doing this for Anthony’s children,” I replied, feigning surprise. Richard continued, “What about the money from the house sale? You can give it to Sofia. She will save it for you. I’m worried about your extravagant spending.” In the past, as long as I claimed it was for the children’s benefit, they usually remained quiet. But today, Richard and Sofia’s demeanor suggested I was now expendable with my sons heading to college. Thinking of this, I said calmly, “I’ve instructed my lawyer to deposit the money into a growth fund. “Micah and Maxwell will receive ten thousand dollars monthly until they turn forty.” Richard’s furrowed brow finally relaxed at that. He said, “Good to see you’re thinking ahead and leaving money for my grandchildren. “You don’t need to buy a house. Just rent one, and don’t waste the money.”

As the chatter continued, the hotel manager approached and handed me the microphone. He said, “Today is your sons’ birthday and graduation party. “As their mother, I’d like to ask you to share a few words and some insights.” Taking the microphone, I began, “Thank you all for attending Maxwell and Micah’s graduation party. Today…” “Today, my sons have been accepted into Ivy League colleges. It’ll be a pity if their biological parents are not present on such a significant day.” Before I could finish, a commotion interrupted me. A man and a woman entered arm in arm. I looked up and, despite the eighteen years that had passed, instantly recognized them, my late husband Anthony and his beloved Amber. The hall buzzed with murmurs. Richard and Sofia, seated at the main table, showed no excitement at seeing their son returned from the dead. Instead, they calmly invited Amber to sit beside them. Anthony, who had been “dead” for eighteen years, approached me. He said, “Hannah, you may not be a good wife, but you’ve been a good mother.” My sons, finally breaking free from their shock, looked confused. “What’s going on?” Anthony pointed at Amber and said, “Amber is your biological mother. Hannah couldn’t have children. “If she hadn’t refused to divorce me and threatened me to commit suicide back then, our family wouldn’t have been torn apart for eighteen years.” Before I could defend myself, the Parker family members turned to my sons. “He’s right. It was Hannah’s refusal to divorce that kept you from your birth parents for eighteen years.” “Don’t think Hannah treated you well. She didn’t have the best intentions.” “Well, now that you’re grown and have been admitted to Ivy League colleges, the family can finally reunite.” Micah and Maxwell stood frozen, unsure of how to react. Amber wailed, taking their hands and showing them her phone, “I’m your biological mother. I send you gifts every year. “I even sneak in to see you after school.” As she spoke, she turned to me and added, “Hannah, thank you for raising my two sons so well.” Anthony wrapped his arm around her shoulders and looked at me with a hint of sarcasm. He demanded, “You and I are getting a divorce. After eighteen years, I’m marrying Amber.” Everyone thought I would disagree, or even make a scene. But facing the discussions and inquiring eyes of dozens of people from the Parker family, I laughed, “Okay! I agree. I’ll file for divorce tomorrow and reunite your family.” My words stunned the audience. They couldn’t believe I would give away the sons I had raised for eighteen years. Even Anthony and Amber stared at me in disbelief. They thought I would throw a tantrum and cry but didn’t expect me to agree so readily. Anthony looked at me in disbelief and asked puzzledly, “Are you out of your mind?” I replied directly, “What? Not happy about it?” Amber quickly pulled on Anthony’s arm, and he, fearing I might change my mind, retrieved a divorce agreement from his bag. He said, “Then sign the divorce agreement. From now on, Micah and Maxwell have nothing to do with you, and you can’t see them again.” Without reading it, I signed. “Mom? You don’t want us anymore?” Micah and Maxwell looked at me, hurt and confused by my quick compliance. Amber tucked the agreement away and said complacently, “Hannah, thank you for making us whole. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be so carefree out there.” Looking at her two tall sons, Amber grinned with a proud smile. “Okay, there’s nothing more for you to do here. Just go.” Richard waved me off impatiently. I said, “Now that the agreement is signed, it’s time to tell you the truth.” “What do you mean?” Amber asked, confused. I sighed with relief. After eighteen years, it was finally over. I clapped my hands and called to the door, “Come in.” Moments later, two figures entered the hall.

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My boyfriend Charles Lane’s mom, Karen Wilson, called us to come over for dinner. When we got to his place, a five-year-old kid suddenly rushed into his arms, yelling, “Daddy!” A plainly dressed woman with a big smile waved at me and said, “Nancy Stone! It’s been forever—can’t believe you actually managed to snag Charles.” I shot a confused look at Charles, and he shrugged casually. “Quinn Scott got divorced and moved back here. She had nowhere to stay, so I told her she could bring the kid and keep my mom company for a while.” I struggled through that dinner, barely keeping it together. Afterward, I agreed to a blind date my family had been pushing for—and within a week, I was married. ***** At the dinner table, Charles’ family sat together, chatting and laughing like it was the most natural thing in the world. While I huddled quietly in the corner. Karen cradled five-year-old Tyler Collins in her arms, her smile so bright it seemed her face might burst. Out of nowhere, Tyler turned to Charles and shouted, “Daddy, I really like the toy car you got me this time!” “Glad you like it,” Charles replied, warm and indulgent. The way he looked at Tyler—it was like he was gazing at his own kid. Maybe Quinn caught the sour look on my face because she quickly jumped in to hush her son. “Tyler, how many times have I told you? Don’t call Mr. Lane ‘Daddy.’ He’s not married yet.” Her words sounded like a scolding, but her face told a different story—she wasn’t mad. If anything, she looked amused, her whole expression lit up with a smile. Then Quinn speared a piece of fried fish with her fork and popped it into Charles’ mouth. “Charles, try this—see if my cooking’s gotten rusty. I made it special for you since I knew you’d be back.” Her movements were so smooth and casual, you’d think they were the couple here. “Delicious,” Charles said, taking the bite without hesitation, his lips brushing her fork like it was no big deal. “I’ve been craving this for years while you were abroad. Now that you’re back, I’m in for a treat.” A wave of nausea hit me, and my appetite vanished completely. I stared into space when Quinn speared another piece of fried fish with her fork and moved it toward my plate. “Nancy, you’ve got to try my cooking too!” I jerked my plate away and snapped, “No thanks, I don’t like it. I’m a germaphobe.” The smile plastered on Quinn’s face froze for a second before crumbling. Her lips were pursed into a pout, and it looked like tears were about to spill. Charles quickly scooped the fish she’d offered me into his own plate, then shot me a glare. “What’s your deal? We’ve been together for years—since when are you a germaphobe? Are you just trying to start something?” I’d hold it together until then, but his words shattered the dam. All the hurt I’d been bottling up came flooding out, and tears welled up in my eyes. Before I could even get a word out, Quinn jumped in again, her voice trembling with exaggerated woe. “Charles, don’t blame Nancy. It’s my fault—I got too carried away.” Before she even finished speaking, a tiny hand slapped me across the face. “Don’t you dare bully my mom!” I looked up, tears stinging my eyes, to see Quinn’s son Tyler standing there, hands on his hips, his little face puffed up with anger. I was so furious I started shaking. “Where are your manners?” I snapped. My shout startled him, and he burst into tears. Karen swooped in, scooping him up to comfort him, then turned to scold me. “Can’t you just talk things out calmly? Why would you yell at a little kid who doesn’t know better? Kids scare easily—you’re only making trouble for yourself.” Quinn stood up, pointing at me accusingly. “Nancy, no matter what’s going on, you don’t take it out on a child.” Charles hurried to calm her down, ushering her back into her seat, then nudged me. “Come on, apologize to the kid. You’re a grown adult—how can you stoop to arguing with a child?” That was it—I couldn’t hold back the flood of hurt any longer. I dropped my fork and knife, stood up, and stormed toward the door. As I passed the cabinet, a bright toy car caught my eye—the one Tyler had raved about, the one Charles had asked me to buy for his “nephew.”

Before we came, Charles mentioned a little nephew would be there too. I hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was his sister’s kid. But no—it was Quinn’s son all along. Realizing that, I grabbed the toy, yanked the door open and hurled it outside. When I stepped out, Tyler’s cries and Charles’ furious shouts erupted behind me. “Nancy, have you lost your mind?” I ignored the chaos inside and kept walking, leaving his house behind. As I waited for the elevator, Charles came charging out. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back toward his place. “Go back and apologize! How can you be so petty with a kid?” I yanked myself free from his grip, my eyes blazing as I yelled back, “Charles, don’t you think the one who should apologize is that brat with no manners?” Out of nowhere, a sharp slap landed across my face. I froze, stunned. “Tyler’s already got it rough without a dad,” Charles snapped. “Can’t you just cut him some slack? Calling a kid like that—don’t you think you’re being cruel?” His biased words almost made me laugh. “Cruel? Fine, call me cruel then. But if you think I’m apologizing, you’re dreaming.” Right then, the elevator doors slid open. I darted inside, leaving Charles fuming outside as the doors shut. Back at the house, I shared with Charles, I quickly packed up all my stuff and shipped it back home. I booked a flight for that same day—after seven years in his city for him, I was done for good this time. Charles blew up my phone with calls, but I didn’t pick up once. It was the first time I didn’t cave. Looking back, I was such a fool. He’d secretly flown overseas to see Quinn behind my back, all because she’d said, “I miss you.” He even sold the small company he’d spent years building from scratch to pay off Quinn’s debts, leaving himself with nothing. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg—I could go on forever. Time after time, I let my heart soften, feeling sorry for him. I even went behind his back, begging my family to pull strings and open doors for him, smoothing the way for his career. But no matter how much I did, I could never compete with Quinn, his childhood sweetheart. To him, she was worth more than his own life. And yet, even with all that, Quinn still chose someone else back then. When I dragged my bags through the door back home, my mom, Megan, gave me a sharp look. “Oh, you finally remembered where home is. Guess you’ve had enough of learning the hard way, huh?” Her words stung, but she still reached over to grab one of my bags. I flashed an awkward smile, not daring to talk back. She was right—I’d messed up, big time. My parents, Megan and Dylan, never liked Charles and were dead-set against us dating. It took me crying and begging for a solid month before they grudgingly gave in. But their approval came with a catch: they wanted Charles to move to our city. I knew right away he’d never agree—his pride was way too strong for that. So, in the end, I snuck off to his city behind their backs. Reality, though, had a way of slapping me hard across the face. That evening, my dad, Dylan Stone, got home from work just as we sat down to dinner. The second he saw me, he let out an angry huff and stormed off to his study. Megan shot me a quick look, nudging me with her eyes. I scrambled to my feet and followed him. Ten minutes later, I’d sweet-talked him out of his mood, and soon enough, our family was back to its old chatter and laughter. Over dinner, Dylan mentioned he’d found someone for me to meet—a hardworking guy who’d built himself up from nothing, ambitious and decent.

My parents both turned to me, their faces lit with hope. Megan hesitated, her lips twitching like she wanted to nudge me along, worried I’d push back. I’d always hated the idea of blind dates, after all. Dylan, meanwhile, sat there with a dark look, practically daring me to say no—like he’d rip me apart if I did. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Dad, send me his number. I’ll meet him tomorrow.” The second I said it, their faces broke into huge, relieved smiles. After dinner, I was deleting the handful of photos I’d taken with Charles over the years when his video call popped up. I figured it was as good a time to clear the air with him once and for all. But the second I answered, Charles launched into me. “I’m not coming home tonight. You need to think long and hard about what you did. You finally visit my mom’s place, and you manage to upset everyone. “I even had you buy that toy so Tyler might warm up to you, but this is how you treat a kid—like some shrew. “Now Tyler doesn’t like you, my mom doesn’t like you—what are we supposed to do about that?” He unloaded all that on me, then stared expectantly, waiting for my response. He didn’t even notice that the background behind me wasn’t our little shared home anymore. I almost laughed at how absurd it all sounded. Why should my relationship with him depend on some kid’s approval? Before I could say anything, a woman’s voice cut in, “Charles, how do I look in this?” A second later, Quinn appeared on screen, dressed in a slinky nightgown. She plopped down next to him, then spotted me in the call. “Oh, Nancy, it’s you! Don’t be mad at Charles, okay? Tyler’s already over it, so there’s no need to keep fighting with him.” Her tone dripped with fake concern, but it was obvious she was taunting me, pressing herself against Charles in that skimpy outfit. Charles’ face flushed down to his neck, but he didn’t budge—just let her stay glued to his side. Honestly, this wasn’t exactly new for them. They’d done plenty of couple-like things in the past, all while pretending to be friends on the surface. Out of nowhere, Megan appeared behind me. Before I could react, she snatched my phone from my hands. “Don’t ever contact my daughter again—you two are done,” she snapped, then hung up the call in a huff. Charles must’ve panicked because, not even a second later, he dialed back. I didn’t pick up—and I had no intention of doing so. Megan, worried I might waver, quickly chimed in with a reminder to stay strong. I gave her a reassuring pat, letting her know I wouldn’t cave this time. The next morning, I met the guy my parents had set me up with. He was polished, funny, and easy to talk to, plus his background matched ours pretty evenly. The conversation flowed, and by the end, we were both feeling good about it. His name was Nathan Smith—a rising star in the business world. Not even thirty, he’d already taken over his family’s company and turned it into a thriving success. My parents had done their homework: no messy dating history, just a guy who’d poured everything into his career and earned a stellar reputation. He seemed like someone worth building a life with. After our meeting, since our parents already knew each other, the two families wasted no time finalizing the engagement. The wedding was set for the end of the month—just a few days away. Late that night, after wrapping up a call with Nathan, I was aimlessly scrolling through my social feed when I stumbled across something ridiculous. Charles had taken Quinn and her son on a trip—staying in the same hotel, no less. Quinn had gone out of her way to post about it, complete with a caption and photos. Her caption read: [More than friends, not quite lovers—shouldn’t be long before we’re a real family of three.] The pictures? One of the hotel room’s double beds and another of Charles give her son a bath in the bathroom. The comments below were from Charles’ buddies and Quinn’s best friends—people I knew, all mutual connections. They were teasing her. [Guess you finally see how great Charles is now, huh?] Quinn replied with a shy emoji. Someone else commented: [Good thing you came around quick, or Charles might’ve ended up with someone else.] One of her friends added, suddenly enlightened: [Wait a sec—Charles dated that other girl for years and never proposed. Was he waiting for you all along? So happy for you, haha!] Then came a flood of congratulations. [Congrats! Wishing you a speedy wedding—maybe give Tyler a little sister next, and you’ll have the perfect boy-girl pair!] I smirked and deliberately copied that last comment, posting it myself. No sooner had it gone up than a classmate messaged me: [Did you and Charles break up?] I thought about it—technically, we hadn’t said it out loud, but it was pretty much a done deal. So I replied that: [Yeah, we’d split.] Once she got the confirmation, she offered some unexpected sympathy. [Charles is a total jerk. Good riddance—hope he and Quinn stay together forever and stop messing with anyone else.] I laughed it off, assuring her I was fine. I added: [I’m actually getting married soon. I’ll invite you guys when the time comes.] After exchanging a few pleasantries with her, I started flipping through my photo album. And pulled up a picture of a wedding dress I’d saved seven years ago. Time had changed things—what used to be my favorite gown now looked outdated and unappealing. It wasn’t expensive or anything special, and I couldn’t even remember why I’d loved it so much back then. For seven years it’d sat there, untouched. Looking at it now, I thought my old taste was pretty terrible. Just then, my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Charles. Curious about what he’d have to say, I picked up. “Nancy, don’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “Quinn and I are sharing a room because it’s easier to look after Tyler. It’s a twin-bed room—you saw that. So don’t overthink it. “If you’re over what happened the other day, just wait for me at home like a good girl. Once I’ve taken them out to unwind, I’ll come get you, okay?” When I didn’t respond, he must’ve assumed I was still mad. His tone shifted to that soft, coaxing voice he used when he was trying to smooth things over—like he was talking to a kid. “Come on, don’t be upset. Even Tyler, a little kid, isn’t holding a grudge. You’re an adult—don’t make a big deal out of it. I shouldn’t have pushed you to apologize that day; I got carried away. Can you forgive me, babe?” He only ever called me “babe” when he knew he’d done something to upset me. In the past, I might’ve let it slide, but not anymore. I was ready to let go—to step out of this vague, messy thing he had with Quinn. I was done being a pawn in their little game. With that in mind, I smiled and said, “Well, have a great time then.” My voice carried no trace of jealousy—just pure, genuine cheer, which threw him off for a second. “Charles, honey, come to bed—Tyler wants you to cuddle him to sleep,” Quinn’s voice chimed in from the background. Charles fumbled a quick “Gotta go” and hung up in a rush. I took a deep breath and called Nathan, “Let’s move the wedding up—to the day after tomorrow.” He didn’t sound the least bit surprised. Instead, his voice softened with concern. “Are you okay? You don’t sound happy.” I hadn’t expected Nathan—pushing thirty with zero dating experience—to pick up on my mood so keenly. The night before the wedding, I sent the invitations to our class group chat, and it blew up almost instantly.

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When I turned eighteen, my family suddenly struck it rich. My father, Samuel Cooper, made a fortune in business. We moved into a big mansion with a full staff of maids and drivers. My younger brother, Dylan Cooper, was sent to Leranda to study and soon after graduated, marrying a beautiful and wealthy woman. Together, they helped our family business thrive. The only problem was that I had caught a cold and missed the SATs, so my parents married me off to a poor, rural bachelor. I was locked in the basement, tortured day after day. I finally managed to escape and return home, but my parents’ attitude was disgustingly cold. “Such a burden. Why didn’t you just die in the mountains?” Dylan took me out to cheer me up, then pushed me under a moving truck. I ended up with broken bones and was sent to the ICU. As I lay on the brink of death, Dylan, dressed in an expensive suit, whispered in my ear, “I’ll let you die knowing the truth. Our family didn’t get rich from business. It was all because of the 100 million dollar lottery ticket you won. “We secretly claimed the prize, and kept it from you all this time.” With regret, I breathed my last. After I died, my body was “married off” for a dowry of 120 thousand dollars. Then, I opened my eyes again, back to the day I bought the lottery ticket. “This is your ticket. Keep it safe. You might just win big.” I stared at the ticket in my hand, dazed. I had been reborn. Back in the day, I bought that lottery ticket! In my past life, I’d bought the same ticket, but Dylan had barged into my room and stolen it. I had always considered myself unlucky and didn’t believe I’d win, so I didn’t give the ticket much thought. Soon after, our family’s business started booming. We quickly moved into a mansion and became one of the city’s wealthiest families. Dylan was sent off to study abroad in Leranda. I had even suggested studying abroad myself, but my mother, Madison Cooper, shot it down immediately. “You’re a girl. You’ll get married and settle down. What’s the point of studying abroad? It’s just a waste.” I had been the top student in my entire grade. But ever since I bought that lottery ticket, my bad luck never stopped. Even on SAT day, I fell ill, collapsed from diarrhea, and missed the exam. My parents married me off to a poor rural bachelor, and I was locked in a basement, abused daily. I eventually managed to escape and return home. Covered in bruises and injuries, I stood at the door, but my parents only scolded me. “Look at you, like a beggar. You’re embarrassing our family! How could you not die in that village?!” Dylan’s wife, dripping in expensive jewelry, wrinkled her nose at me and sneered, saying to Dylan, “Is this really your sister? She’s even worse than a beggar!” Only Dylan held me close and whispered, “Zoey, I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” He took me out to cheer me up. Then, when the security cameras couldn’t see us, he pushed me under a speeding truck! I ended up with multiple fractures and was rushed to the ICU. In my final moments, Dylan, dressed in his luxurious suit, bent over and whispered in my ear, “I want you to die knowing the truth. Our family didn’t get rich from business. It was all because of the 100 million dollars you won from that lottery. That’s how the company started. That’s how I got the chance to study abroad. I really should be thanking you.” He paused, then coldly added, “But as long as you’re alive, there’s a risk you’ll find out the truth. What if one day you start making trouble? That’s why our parents sent you off to the village, and told the villagers to torture you. We never expected you to escape… but this time, you’re going to die. Just die peacefully. Our family will be grateful.” With regret, I took my last breath. After I died, my body was married off for a dowry. Thinking back on my past life, I clenched the lottery ticket in my hand and silently vowed. This time, I will never let them take the 100 million dollars from me again! “Zoey, I knew you’d be here!” I turned around in shock, only to see Dylan standing in front of me, though I didn’t know when he had appeared. He saw the ticket clenched tightly in my hand. His eyes lit up, and he reached out to grab it.

“Zoey, what’s that in your hand? Is it a lottery ticket? Let me see.” Dylan grabbed my hand forcefully, his eyes gleaming with greed. When he saw that I couldn’t open my fist, he kicked me in the leg. I winced in pain and accidentally loosened my grip. “Heh, I knew you were hiding a lottery ticket!” He looked down, his expression a bit confused. My hand was empty. Nothing was there. “Where’s the ticket? Where did you hide it?” Dylan stared at me, unable to believe it, scanning me up and down. I rubbed my sore leg, feeling a bit wrong. “What lottery ticket? I just passed by a lottery shop. I didn’t even buy one.” Dylan clearly didn’t trust me. He searched every inch of my body, panicking when he found nothing. He didn’t bother with me anymore, rushing into the lottery shop and grabbing the shopkeeper by the collar. “Who bought a ticket just now?” The shopkeeper, used to eccentric customers, shrugged Dylan off without a second thought. “Lots of people come and go all day, how would I remember?” Dylan was trying to recall the lottery ticket worth 100 million dollars. But after so long, his memory was fuzzy, and all he could remember were the first few digits. He took a deep breath. Then his eyes glinted as he thought of something. He pulled me over and glared at me. “You go buy it. “You better pick the right one, or I won’t let you off!” Hearing this, I felt a chill in my heart. Now, I finally understood what Dylan’s behavior was about! It turned out he had also been reborn! To make sure he wouldn’t miss out on the lottery win this time, he followed me all the way to the lottery shop and made me buy the ticket for him. I chose a ticket based on the first few digits he had given me. Still holding the ticket, Dylan looked at me with doubt, scanning me up and down. Clearly, he was still suspicious that I had hidden the ticket somewhere. At dinner, Dylan was irritated, tapping his fork on the table. Madison quickly picked up some food for him. “What’s wrong? Did someone at school upset you? Let me handle it.” Samuel also put down his fork and looked at him seriously. “Yeah, did some classmate look down on you again?” Dylan waited until he thought they were concerned enough, then finally looked up, sneering, and pointed at me. “She bought the lottery ticket and didn’t show it to me.” My parents exchanged glances. Samuel frowned first and scolded me. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve told you before, as the older sister, you should be considerate of your younger brother! What did you do to upset Dylan? Apologize to him now!” Madison sighed, gently brushing her rough hand over mine and saying softly, “Zoey, I’m not criticizing you, but your brother is our only son. As his older sister, you need to learn to take care of Dylan.” I felt the touch on my hand, and a shiver ran down my spine.

The outcome of my past life seemed to be clear as day. “My sister bought a lottery ticket but kept it from me, even lying and saying she didn’t get one. Mom, what should we do?” Dylan looked at me provocatively. My dad slammed his fork down. “Hurry up and hand over the ticket! You’re not going to win anyway. What’s the harm in letting Dylan play with it?” Dylan chuckled. “What if my sister wins the grand prize and decides she’s too good for our family?” My mom stood up immediately and shoved me into my room. She searched every corner of the place, even checking the lining of my underwear. “Zoey, where is it? Hand it over now!” my mom yelled angrily, pointing at me. I felt my eyes water as I looked at them, feeling wronged. “I told you, I didn’t buy a lottery ticket. But none of you believe me! “I only bought that one ticket. The only one Dylan took.” Dylan frowned and looked at me, suspicious. After all, he had just rushed over after his rebirth and hadn’t seen whether I went into the lottery shop or not. Once the door to my room was closed, I quickly pulled the ticket from my hair. Thankfully, I had hidden the ticket there in time, or else this family would’ve found it. But now, my room didn’t feel safe. I quickly took advantage of the time when I went to the bathroom to seal the ticket in a plastic bag and hid it in the toilet tank. Dylan took a few days off from school but still wasn’t giving up. He kept coming to my room, snooping around. I remained calm, watching him rummage through my things without a hint of panic. My mom also made up an excuse to take me shopping for clothes. While I was in the dressing room changing, she went through my bag. Of course, they found nothing. Because I had hidden the ticket in a place they never would’ve thought to look. Soon, the day of the lottery draw arrived. Just like in my past life, the ticket I bought won 100 million dollars! Soon, I would be able to claim the prize and make up for the regrets of my last life! But when I got home from school, I suddenly sensed something was off. As soon as I walked in the door, my mom slapped me across the face. My cheek burned with the sting. “If it wasn’t for the toilet being clogged, I never would’ve found out you hid the lottery ticket in the tank,” my mom sneered, shaking the ticket in her hand. My brother grinned at me. “See, I told you she hid a ticket! You didn’t believe me!” I rushed to the toilet tank, only to find it empty. My dad kicked me, his fist clenched in anger. “You’re getting bold now! You actually dared to hide it. You think you’re some kind of lucky one?” With a look of disdain, my dad held up the ticket and coldly laughed. “Today, I’ll let you watch your little fantasy come crashing down!” Saying that, he gripped the ticket and was about to rip it up. “Dad! No!” Dylan screamed, rushing forward to grab onto my dad’s leg, shouting, “Don’t tear it! This ticket could win 100 million!”   “One hundred million dollars? Are you kidding? Even if someone really won 100 million, it couldn’t possibly be your sister!” Dylan was still in shock and shouted, “The drawing has already happened! This ticket won 100 million! We can finally buy a big mansion. This crappy house is falling apart. My body can’t take it anymore! “I’ll marry a rich, beautiful woman and carry on the family line.” My parents couldn’t believe it. They stared at the numbers on the TV screen, completely ecstatic. “We’re rich! Our family is rich!!!” I crawled up from the floor, tears streaming uncontrollably, my whole body shaking as I screamed. “This is my ticket! Why are you stealing it from me?” My mom shouted back, “You used the money I gave you to buy that ticket! What are you shouting for? Even if we win 100 million dollars, you won’t get a single cent!” They had never given me living expenses, and all the money I made came from tutoring! Without saying anything else, they began to tidy up and prepare to leave to claim the prize. Before they left, they locked me in my room, ignoring my cries and struggles. “Zoey, you really are the chosen one. You casually bought a ticket worth 100 million. “But this time, just watch as we take home the 100 million! You’ll regret it. You’ll suffer!” I watched as my family left, the pain on my face fading away. Instead, a smile began to form because the real show was about to start… I quickly packed my bags and documents, then rented a place outside to focus on studying. On the way, Dylan called me on a video call. When the call connected, Dylan’s arrogant face appeared on the screen. He lowered his voice and said, “Zoey, you’ve been reborn too, right? How does it feel? Too bad, even if you have another life, you still can’t beat me. You’ll still have to watch me take home that 100 million. “Don’t even think about calling the cops. It won’t help. We’re family, and your money is ours. The police won’t be able to do anything. “Feeling hopeless? If you really are, just jump out of the window. Maybe you’ll get to the ticket before we do.” My family strutted off to the lottery center, proud as peacocks. My dad went straight to the counter, announcing loudly, “We’re here to claim our prize! We won 100 million!” “What? One hundred million?” The lottery store was packed with people on the weekend, and when the crowd heard this, they stopped and stared in shock. “One hundred million! Could it be that the winner is from their family?” “Someone actually won 100 million!” “Oh my God, why wasn’t it me?” More and more people gathered around, stopping whatever they were doing to crowd around my family. “Yes, it’s us! We won 100 million!” Dylan casually looked around, then held up the ticket high. “You should call the reporters now. Your store will make the front page of the news today, all thanks to us!” “By the way, there’s one more thing.” My dad suddenly paused and turned to the reporters gathering around. “Everyone, be a witness!” With the crowd surrounding us, my dad smiled confidently at the cameras flashing all around us. “This 100 million ticket only belongs to the three of us. It’s not for my daughter Zoey! “And from now on, our family is cutting ties with Zoey. After her SATs, we’ll wash our hands of her and let her fend for herself!” He ignored the murmurs of the crowd and turned to the store owner with a smug smile. “Now, give us the prize!” The store owner’s face turned red with excitement, sweat trickling down his forehead. He took the ticket with both hands, inspecting it closely. Then, he froze. The crowd held their breath, waiting to witness the miracle of 100 million. After a long pause, the store owner slowly looked up. “What? What’s wrong?” the crowd murmured. “Didn’t win?” “They did.” The store owner said, “But… it’s only ten dollars!”

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